


Vault 831 - a collection of fanfiction inspired by the August Fic Challenge 2017

by deichqueen, Frenziedgem1, Kicker, TheArtOfBlossoming



Series: August Challenges; Vault 831 [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: August fic challenge, Multi, Vault 831
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 32,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deichqueen/pseuds/deichqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenziedgem1/pseuds/Frenziedgem1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicker/pseuds/Kicker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: 31 days, 31 fics. Welcome to Vault 831, where fans write drabble, smut, fluff and emote once a day for a whole month*Challenge originally created by @yourlocalpriestess and @joufancyhuh on Tumblr.*Or as much as they can manage.





	1. Shameless Fluff

He held the tattered sleeve in his grasp and rubbed his wrist over the old, pitted mirror. A bit of stubborn grime elicited a hocking spittle attack, which also caught her attention.

"What on scorched earth was that gross noise? Need medical attention, Mayor?"

"Shit!" The thirteen-year old Robert Joseph MacCready, Mayor of Little Lamplight, span around suddenly, the ragged hem caught on the cracked plastic frame and the mirror span like a U.F.O. to the floor, crashing into a chairleg.

"Ohfuck. It better not be broke! Seven years bad luck…shit. I'd be clear two decades old by then! Did it break?"

Lucy dipped her head underneath the table, her light brown hair brushing the cavern floor. 

"Nope. Oh, wait, just a teeny chip. Tell me, R.J., which shoulder already has one so I can balance them out?"

"Haha, very funny. Lemme see the mirror," Mac said, his voice cracking, the tone swinging ponderously between 'man' and 'boy'.

"Why'd you need it, anyhow?"

"To look at my face, stupid."

"Well, I'm looking at your face. What d'you wanna know?"

MacCready stared at her soft, brown eyes. He couldn't say why but sometimes, that's all he wanted to do.

"Well, what did you need to know?"

"Uh… do I look any different to you recently?"

"Aside from ditching that stupid rag that kept your hat on? I don't know, what am I looking for?"

MacCready lifted his chin, tilting his head this way and that. "You can't see anything extra?"

"Where?" Lucy, at this point was peering quite close to his face.

At this point, Mac decided to give up, huffed out a "Fuck it. I need a beer" and started to stomp off. As he turned, the lamplight was reflected for a moment off something near MacCready's mouth.

"Wait, I see it!" Lucy had grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. There were those brown eyes again. He stood, captivated, as she brought her fingertips tentatively to his upper lip. With the gentlest caress, she felt the fine, pale hairs growing there.

He smelled her clean fingertips (antiseptic and gumdrops) and became suddenly aware that he had brought his gun-oiled hand up to hold them. Each could feel the warm breath of the other, could hear their own hearts beating in their ears, the awkward approach of lips suddenly touching their own and then, the soft, moist sucking as Mac ruined his first attempt at a romantic kiss and Lucy pulled away rubbing her nose. 

"You tickled me with your fluff-tache!"

"You felt it? Yes! I'm getting a beard!" The last was said in a broken high tone.

Lucy laughed, wiping his slobber from her face. She couldn't help but find him adorable.

"Hey, Lucy?"

"Yes, R.J.?"

"You gettin' tits yet?"

And with that, she slapped him right across his shameless fluff and stormed out of the door.


	2. A Rare Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin lives a dream and gives a gift.

He wasn't keen on travelling all the way back here but he'd said he would for his 40th. Well, technically his 250th but saying he was a quarter of a millenium made him feel really old. Being in his forties was bad enough. If the world hadn't gone to shit and life had worked out as it should, then he'd be buying that midnight blue Roller Roy rocket trike and teaching Shaun how to ride shotgun.

But the world _did_ go to shit (though the Nuka Cola still hadn't run dry) and all the Lone Wanderers including his Mistress of Mystery, the shiny red joyride, had turned to hulks of rust. All…except this one. Pristine, still gleaming as though it had been oiled and waxed just yesterday, the ruby relic sat waiting in Bradburton's office. The diesel had long run out but with a little ingenuity and a lot of late-night discussions with Ingram, Neriah and the Atom Cats, an alternative had been devised. A sustainable, plant-oil based fuel. All it took were a couple of minor adjustments and she was almost ready to ride. 

Vin rummaged around in an office drawer, looking for the keys. He pulled out an envelope with something inside that jingled. Unwinding the string from the envelope button, he tipped the contents onto the desk. Another sealed packet hid the jangling thing with a note that was something about 'prototype merchandise' and law suits. Vin did a double take when he recognised the logo of the law firm that Nora had worked for. He smiled a sad little smile as he ran a finger over the image of the scales briefly.

Inside the packet, Vincent felt cloth. He shook the packet and a few brightly decorated but unpressed bottle caps, two keyrings with bad facsimiles of bottle and cappy and a small item of clothing with an embroidered Bottle motif fell out. He stuffed the cloth in a pocket, left the almost-caps and picked up the Cappy keyring. It was Mac's nickname, after all and it made Vin smile.

* * *  
After much wrestling, the pock-pock glochenspiel of planks being arranged between the boat and the dock gave way to a rumbling roar that was attempting to reach crescendo. The foreign sound of the rocket-engined motorbike visibly cutting through the fog made the harbourfolk leap aside. One idiot even shot at it, reflexively but luckily for Vin, missed. He roared down the island road.

"What in the name of the briny deep is that racket?" Old Longfellow said, clutching his bottle of what had been whiskey but was now down to the five percent spit in the bottom. Vin skidded, a little out of control, to a halt. He removed his combat helmet and goggles, beaming at the salty old codger.

"What did you have to bring that rackety thing for? Lure all the trappers 'n' critters fer miles around y'idiot."

Vin's grin didn't fade a bit. He'd had too much of a thrill riding across the Commonwealth, dodging raiders' pitiful pipe-shots, Supermutants with mini-nukes (one threw a nuke like an old football but thankfully he was a poor shot). Bloatflies had squelched on the headlamp and radstags reared as he went by. A horde of feral ghouls had followed him away from a settlement and run straight into a family of yao guai that he'd swerved to avoid.

"Because…" Vin panted…"I'm having one last oldy-worldy hurrah. Besides, I'm not idiot enough to try riding this baby over the island."

"Good. Well, boy, did you bring any whiskey?"

"Always, old man. Here you go. Oh…and another thing. You're always complainin' that your holes have socks in 'em," he joked with a wry grin. "Try these on."

And that is how Longfellow got a new pair of socks. A very rare pair indeed.


	3. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes from Sentinel-General Vincent 'Nate' Hudson's life, pre- and post-war

*Thanksgiving, 2053*. 

The auburn haired boy wriggled, trying to loosen the stupid frilly shirt his mum had insisted he wear. She was currently giving Mikey, his dad, the third degree about not having dry cleaned his own frilly shirt. She wafted away into the bathroom as his dad poked his head around the door with a sympathetic look. They needed to look their best, apparently. Neither Mikey nor Vinny thought they needed to dress up this much just to go across to Uncle Ryan and Aunt Olivia's for dinner.

Vincent stood on tiptoes to ring the doorbell. Libby answered, looking flushed and they could hear Ryan shouting at his son Vaughn to rearrange the table settings properly. Poor Vonny, Vincent always felt sorry for the way his dad always shouted at him for no good reason. He was the best behaved boy in the class. Vincent couldn't claim the same, nor did he get the abuse. No, when his dad was on tour, his mum would push him onto any friend, neighbour or babysitter she could and have as little to do with him as possible. She paid more attention to how he dressed than who he was.

They all sat down, Olivia said 'the grateful speech' as Vonny called it and they tucked in. The two brothers soon got into talking about the military, how terribly Boston had played baseball recently and something about spirits. Vinny tried to join in the conversation as he thought they were talking about ghosts which was exciting but his uncle soon put that spark out. 

The two eight year old boys amused themselves with furtively pulled funny faces, Vinny fired a pea across the room to land in a vase with none of the adults any wiser and Vonny put his new spectacles on upside-down. 

Libby and Miriam spoke little. When they did it was social niceties, polite comments on each others' boys and the like. Miriam tried to engage Olivia with questions about the latest shows or fashions but Libby was less of a society butterfly, preferring a quiet home life to an exuberant high life. They never really liked each other. Ryan's eyes often lingered a little too long on his glamourous sister-in-law and she silently strung him along.

It hadn't been a perfect family but it had been theirs.

*Thanksgiving 2293*

Vincent finished the 'gratitude speech' and opened his eyes. He glanced around the table at his family and his eyes lingered on the framed sketch of his cousin, Dr. Vaughn Zander, wishing he could know these wonderful people with whom he had become so close.

Shaun and Duncan broke his reverie, messing around and making Mac laugh. Codsworth whooshed around serving drinks whilst Danse carved the large radchicken and Curie passed mutfruit sauce to Preston. Sturges was already talking shop with Ingram, who had shed her rig and sat at the table. Piper and Nick were discussing old world Thanksgiving traditions, every now and again asking Vin for verification. Dogmeat happily crunched bones on his rug under the table.

'Family holds the Commonwealth together,' thought Vin as he tucked in to the feast.


	4. Something You Don't Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A most unlikely couple. I hardly ever play with these companions so I hope I've caught their likenesses.

The Vault Dweller was having one of those days again. One of those days where nothing would force more than a terse word or two from their lips, where their companion would try to make conversation, or work out what kind of *fubar* plan they had without success. Where they'd mumble a dismissal and lope off alone into the sunset.

Not that it mattered now. The Sole Survivor of Vault One Eleven had told Strong to go. He thought it was a weak decision but gave them a brahmin haunch anyway. Humans. They did not make sense. Strong would wait here at Zimonja, the empty place. He would hunt, eat, sleep. He strode off toward the still smoking raider's truck, tore six tyres off the wheels and carried them back to make a bed that would withstand his green bulk. It was getting dark, after all.

One of the shadows moved. Strong unhooked the supersledge from his belt and prepared to strike.

X6-88 stepped out and dodged the sweeping hammer's arc. "Halt. I am not your enemy, mutant."

"Oh, Essex man. Strong almost crush you. Be careful hiding too much."

"Stealth is a valuable tactic. One I doubt you would ever be able to learn."

"What you say? Strong's footsteps can be quiet. Not loud like Vault human."

"True, they are a leadfoot at times."

There was a silence as the two mismatched companions stared into the fire.

"I am glad of your arrival, Strong. I was getting bored."

"Bored? Strong not bored. Strong have meat to share, here."

"What is this?"

"Sneaky Deathclaw."

"You mean Chameleon Deathclaw?"

"Yes."

"Impressive."

"Strong is very strong. Courser is very slippery. Make good team."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose we would, having complementary tactical skills."

"Vault human sulking."

"Yes, so I observed. They'll be back."

The firebarrel crackled as the fat from the meat dripped and sizzled. 

"Strong sad for Essex. Why they not make Coursers Supermutants?"

"Possibly so we wouldn't stand out like a gangenous thumb."

"Ugh. Gang-green taste bad."

X6-88 wiped a smear from his glasses and addressed Strong more softly. "I admire your skills, Supermutant. You would make an excellent bodyguard."

Strong beamed with pride, got up and strode over to the Courser, wrapped his arms around the synthetic man and lifted him in a bear-hug. "I guard your body, Essex. Human showed Strong how to say like alot."

X6-88 was not prepared for the great, moist puckered lips that bumped and sucked at his forehead. He righted his glasses and patted the great green thug on the arm. "I...ah… appreciate you, too."

Somewhere in the Commonwealth, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111 suddenly burst out laughing with the thought of someone receiving Strong's snog.


	5. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorelei Anders, Overboss of the Nu-Kommonwealth, muses on friendship.

Friends. Well, *there's* a subjective term with fluid definitions. Being Overboss, Lore of the Wasteland, 'friends' means folks who don't immediately try to kill me, the ones who aren't plotting to kill me and the very few actively helping me to stay alive.

Pre-war, it was pretty much the same. The ones who weren't out to get my job, the ones who lived in our street that we'd invite over for the inevitable barbecues, the ones we saw at soirées and the very few I actually liked.

Some of my new friends remind me of my old friends. Take Shank, for example. He reminds me of Nico at the office. Probably the only male secretary in Boston and no, he wasn't gay, just really good at his job. He had the slow, measured speech, the easy manner and the same level of deference that Shank displays.

Then there's Arturo. Bobby the barman from the Long Night Bar. Smooth, suave, latino.

Nick Valentine. I swear he reminds me of another detective I knew, involved in a messy case I've now forgotten. He was smooth, too. I'd say it was the self-same guy but how could that be possible?

Dogmeat. Pupper is the spit of old Jackson Jay, my second foster folks' dog. I hated them. Loved the dog. Jay was the only reason I stuck around so long. Broke my heart to leave him.

William. Now he is the spit of Connor Nicholson, the security guard I saw in the foyer every day at the law firm. Always gave me a smile like he wanted overtime.

Lizzie, she's a bit like the neighbour we had when we lived in the apartment, before Sanctuary. Kept to herself, some kinda science chick too.

Then there's Operator number four. He always has something nice to say, without grovelling too much. Guess I really should learn his name, one day. He reminds me so much of Mr. Barstow Jnr. Now what was *his* name? Oh yes, Robin. Well, he was the only teacher who I really got on with at college, the one who helped me get into the military and then into his father's law firm when I quit. 

I really can't think of anyone else….one particular friend keeps springing to mind, though, actually. Probably my only true friend in all this bullshit.

Gage. Porter Gage. I must admit, I adore the rough-ass, one-eyed *runkkari*. The drawl in his voice, the soft sarcasm, the aged perfection of his keep-you-alive wisdom, even the ugly fuckin' crater of an eyesocket under that patch. He's my true friend. We hold each other up, staggering through this world that tries to kill us almost every damn day. He has a heart of gold under those rough edges and sharp corners. He hordes it like a dragon does its treasure, lets very few close enough to see its sheen.

I see it, though. I see him, the real him. Just as he sees the real *vittu* that I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Lorelei's story, 'Broken Lore' here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8691682?view_full_work=true


	6. A Fandom You Love But Never Write For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout 4 meets....The Walking Dead. A homage to three favourite characters.

The sky was clear and blue over Alexandria that morning. It was peaceful, so peaceful that Abraham had actually started to feel his shoulders lose some of their usual tension. He heard Sasha rooting about downstairs and a muffled "Damn." He finished preening his beloved moustache, wiped his face on a clean towel and headed downstairs.

"Somethin' amiss, Sasha?"

"Several things. We need more supplies. I'm going out."

"Not without me, you're not. Anyway, my turn to scout with Glenn. Just gotta check in with Rick, first."

They found Rick Grimes studing a map that was spread out on the bonnet of a truck, deep in conversation with Glenn. Abraham swaggered up, Sasha serious at his side. Rick turned.

"Mornin'. Glenn thinks he's found a route. You ready?"

"I'm coming too," stated Sasha.

Rick just did that sideways shift of his head with the expression that said "Alright, if you must."

They loaded the truck and set off.

* * * 

The road was pretty clear. They only had to stop once to haul a rolled car out of the way and drag the red motorcycle that had crashed into it further into the verge. Not much further on, they saw the grand house they had been aiming for. The only thing was, it was a building site. The old mansion must have been torn down and the beginnings of a new, modern millionaire's playground jutted up from the ground, an ironic comment on the current state of affairs. Sasha was crushed.

"Shit. That's blown it. We're not gonna find anything there. Turn us around, Abraham."

"Alright. Looks like the plan just got dicked," he agreed.

"Hang on," Glenn said, looking through binoculars. "I see a cellar door down there."

Abraham held out his hand toward Glenn. "Lemme see. Well hell, he's right. Let's see if these greenfingers hoarded anything."

They got of the truck, cautiously as always. Sasha readied her rifle, Glenn taking point. It was quiet and they reached the ground level slanting doors easily. Glenn picked the padlock, opened the doors and shone his flashlight in. They quietly descended the steps into a concrete tunnel. One more door, opened with Abraham's brute force and they were through.

The tunnel opened out into a chamber. Their torches illuminated a circular metal door about twelve feet high, piled high with unmoving corpses. All had headwounds.

"Well…that's different!" Glenn commented. 

"So how are we supposed to get through that?" Sasha groaned.

Abraham grinned lopsidedly. "I heard about these vaults. Needed a passkey mounted on some kind of wristband. Look around."

Sure enough, the unfortunate buried beneath the other corpses was wearing some kind of smartphone bracelet, a lead dangling from it. Under some fallen crates, Sasha found a console. Abraham snapped the arm and removed the wristband, took it to the console and found where to plug it in. Orange lights came to life, as did a siren and the huge door slowly rolled back.

Inside, a walkway led through metal gates and into the prefabricated structure. The first room held a pistol, some mouldy packaged food and a bottle of soda. Further in, they had more luck. Glenn always had had a good nose for scavenging and soon their backpacks were bursting with tins, packets, bottles, clothing and even a few boxes of ammo. Sasha picked up a particularly viscious looking combat knife with a flicker of a smile.

They moved further in, shuffling quietly by torchlight, ears straining but catching nothing. The corridor ended at an elevator. They looked at each other and mutually nodded consent. The doors still worked, even the obligatory 'Girl from Ipanema' lift music. Abraham instinctively looked up to check for a hatch. There was one. He relaxed a little.

The lift ground to a juddering halt, the doors opened and the music kept playing. A darkened hall loomed ahead, their flashlights not finding any sign of doors or wall ahead. They all crept a few paces forward…then they heard it. The crunching, squelching, shuffling scraping sound. Growling, decomposing voices screaming , hissing, moaning. The three stopped dead in their tracks, flashlights double checking for possible escape routes but there was only one. 

"Aw, Bitch nuts." Abraham said.

The walking dead suddenly filled the tunnel, climbing over one another to reach fresh meat. Glenn, Sasha and Abraham fled back into the elevator, firing as they went. The fasted living corpse flung itself forth, landing on the ground, fingertips brushing Abraham's boot. He lifted said boot and stomped on the skull, crushing it like a pumpkin on the first of November. Glenn pounded the button and screamed "It's not working! Up! Climb up!"

Sasha gave him a hand up to open the hatch, he threw his full pack up as Abraham stood his ground, firing, rifle-butting, kicking; a living security door giving the other two time. Glenn hoisted Sasha up after him and she lay on her stomach, rifle firing, giving Abraham another few clear seconds. "Get up here, now!" she called.

Abraham picked up a recently dispatched body a threw it at the horde. He leapt, grabbing on to the open hatch, Glenn and Sasha catching hold of his shirt, hauling him up. A walker grabbed his leg and he kicked its jaw clean off. Another grabbed at his pack, forcing him to unclip it and throw it at the walker. More piled in to the broken lift and a petite, blue-jumpsuited walker clambered up the writhing pile to just miss Abraham's boot as he pulled it through. It leapt for the hatch and Sasha kicked the trapdoor shut. Fingers skittered across the elevator roof.

The three survivors climbed up the cables and fled the vault. At the huge, metal door, Glenn sealed it and smashed the wristband. Nobody would be going in there again. No bodies would be shambling out. "Good work, Glenn. My ass won't be itchin' now," exclaimed Abraham. He didn't like loose ends.

They emerged into daylight, catching their breath, exhausted but not injured and two full packs to show for it. "Always thought them Vaults were a bad idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.F. - Rest In Fiction, Abraham, Glenn and Sasha.  
> My oc Vincent Hudson is largely based on Abraham Ford. The 'tache, for starters.


	7. The Bad Thing That No-One Talks About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready's nightmares aren't just filled with ghouls...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning : sexual assault.

MacCready woke Vincent up, again. He was sweating, tossing and turning under the threadbare blanket, curled up and writhing. Vin laid a hand gently on his back but that elicited a sudden movement as Mac shot up, shouting "Getyourfuckin'handsoffme!"

Vin backed off. "Whoa, Mac, its me, its Vin. It's me, love." MacCready stared into space wildly for a moment before properly waking up and seeing Vincent before him. 

"Bad dreams again?"

"You think?" snapped MacCready.

"Hey, whoa. Mornin' to you too. Anything you want to talk about?"

"No! Sorry, I just…it doesn't matter. Want coffee?"

"Sure I do but let me do it. You just sit there and gather yourself back together."

"No, I'll do it. Helps to get me over these."

* * *  
Mac and Vin sat together at their dining room table, tucking into bowls of Sugarbombs with a kind of milk that Marcy had made out of the Razorgrain. It wasn't half bad. Vin missed his dairy but you did not want to drink the sour, greenish liquid that brahmin produced. Let the calves have that.

Mac ate quietly. Usually he'd have a quip or a little whine or a comment about it being a good day for travelling. Not on the mornings after he'd had a bad nightmare, though and this was the third morning in a row. Vincent decided that he had to say something.

"You gonna tell me about it or do we have to play twenty questions."

"No."

"No you won't or no we don't have to do the twen.."

"Just drop it, Vin. I'm gonna take a leak."

Vincent sighed and stood up to clear away the breakfast things.

* * *

They spent that day clearing a new Stingwing nest from a site near Trudy's Diner, then doing some repairs and building work at Starlight. They worked so late that they were offered a bunk but Mac just wanted to go home. They rolled over Sanctuary bridge past midnight, exhausted and parched. MacCready hadn't been in a talkative mood all day. He hung up his hat alongside his bandolier, rifle and backpack, kicked off his boots, shrugged off his duster and flung it over a chair. After a moment in the bathroom, he spat and emerged only to flop onto the bed, rolling into the blanket.

Vin unburdened himself and settled quietly beside his beloved companion, snagging as much cover as he could and slipped into a calm and peaceful slumber.

"Youcan'tmakeme, shit, getoff, letmego!" MacCready woke Vin up with a kick in the ribs.

"OW!" Mac, wake up man. "Yer dreamin' again. Violently." Vincent rubbed at the blossoming bruise.

"Sorry, Vin. I'll…I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"No you won't. What you will do is _talk to me_."

"No, I won't. Drop it, Vincent."

Vin scowled. He stood up and whilst Mac was stooping to pick up his boots, moved round to block the door and squared his shoulders. Mac straightened up and immediately slumped when he realised that there was a man-mountain in his way.

"Alright. I give in." MacCready dropped his boots back on the floor and sagged back to sit on the bed.

Vincent came and sat gently beside him, lowering his voice.

"Was it about Lucy?"

"No. Not this time. Those dreams don't bother me so much any more, since…"

Vin cocked an eyebrow, quizzically.

"…since I met you."

"So what is it, then?"

"Just stuff that nobody talks about. Stuff that happens to a lot of folk these days, at some point."

Vincent sat quietly, waiting for Mac to carry on but he said nothing, so he prompted: "What set them off this time?"

Mac ran a hand through his bushy brown hair, dislodged a hardened bogey with his little finger, flicked it aside and sighed. "That Gunner camp we cleared the other day. One of them reminded me of…"

"Quincy?"

"No. Well…yes and no. I really don't wanna go into details."

Vin sighed. He'd been through enough military medic enforced psych sessions to know that if they stopped there, the nightmares might stop for now but they'd return sooner or later, probably worse. He was getting really concerned, this wasn't like the Mac he knew, so he tried again.

"Alright. You wanna hold it all in, go right ahead but if you shiv me in your sleep, I'm gonna haunt you."

Mac looked Vin in the eye, a trace of the amused twinkle briefly sparking between them. Then, a cloud went across his face. He dropped his eyes to the floor and his voice to a near-whisper.  
Outside, most of Sanctuary was still sleeping, the sun about to chase the stars away. If there had been curtains at the windows, they would have been dancing in a warm pre-dawn breeze.

"… I was gang-raped, Vin."

Vincent was taken aback, he'd had no idea and found no words to express his shock. MacCready swallowed hard and continued.

"The Gunners…they're animals. When the officer caught wind that I might desert, he tried to deal with it 'discreetly'…which meant sending his bitch sisters and 'Grunter' to visit my isolated guard post. They held me down whilst the bitchiest one stripped me and grabbed…she forced herself on me. I hated it but my stupid dick just stood to attention whilst …she…"

Vin put a finger to his lips. "Shh. You don't have to say any more. Oh Mac.."

"You opened the floodgate, Vin. Let me lance this thing once and for all."

Vin nodded.

"When _she_ was done, they tied my wrists, threw me on the ground and he started…he was gonna finish the job from behind. Stuck his filthy finger in me and it was still there when I heard the laser musket spin up and felt the warm, wet bits of his brain over the back of my head. I just lay there, paralyzed for what felt like an hour. Can't have been more than a few seconds really because when I dragged his hand away from me and pulled my pants up, I saw the sisters busy fighting. I turned and took some shots into the town but not at the settlers. One sister went down and I took down the bitch who had …had raped me.

Mac's heart was pounding, his whole frame vibrating with nerves. He looked up at Vin with his almond-shaped eyes as wide as they would go.

"Fucknuke. Do you think… did that…put you off me?

"God, no Mac, I love you! That's not gonna change." Vin wrapped his big, comforting arms around the shivering sniper. "Sorry to say that even back in my day there were bastards like that. I'm so sorry you went through that but it is past. You're safe, respected and protected, y'hear?"

Mac nodded, mutely. "I don't know if the nightmares'll go just because I told you, though."

"I can't promise they will. At least now you don't have to try holding it all in. Maybe we've just defused the nightmare bomb but if not, we'll deal with the shrapnel, bit by bit."

Mac snuggled further into Vin's embrace and allowed himself to relax. He gently reminded himself: Vin had his back. Always.


	8. A Long Lost OTP

Five o'clock in the morning was as good a time as any to do a stocktake, especially when sleep was a rare visitor. She was dusting off tins of potted meat, wondering why the stuff had stopped selling of late, when she heard footsteps.

"Got any cram?" asked a gravelly voice. 

Daisy didn't turn before speaking, still stacking tins. "No, sold out for a change but we have a different kind of meat in a can."

"That potted stuff? Don't you know what Collins was putting in there? I'm no cannibal, dear."

Daisy turned to see a very upright ghoul in well-cared for military fatigues and peaked cap. Her heart fluttered momentarily.

"Oh? Really? Guess that explains why we ran out of Cram, though why I'm the last to know beats me. Now, what can I get you instead?"

"Your finest brahmin cuts, thankyou."

* * *  
The following day, the gentleman ghoul returned, this time to sell some packaged food, some tarberries and various junk. He bought a box of candles and a gold-plated flip lighter. This time, he introduced himself as Wiseman from the settlement known as The Slog. Daisy joked that he'd only come back to admire her beautiful figure.

"It always was," muttered Wiseman under his breath. She didn't let on that she'd heard him but a tense, tingling sensation forced its way through her rad-toughened skin.

* * *  
On the third day, he just stood there and smiled at her.

"Well, are we trading today or starting a mutual admiration society?" Daisy quipped.

The old ghoul let out a rasping laugh. "It really is you, isn't it? 'Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do..' " he sang. 

She froze. The last time that song had been sung to her was a few years before the Great War. Just before he went away on his last tour. Before he…. died?

Suddenly, ancient memories fought to reach the surface for air-time in her head. She tried to push them away again. If the memory lounger experience didn't do it then they certainly weren't about to shy away from her denial now.

It was him. Her Jonathan, back from the dead.

As a young jock, he'd been such a Wise-ass that they'd started calling him that until the college tutors cracked down on foul language. Then they'd changed it to 'Wiseman' but he knew what they meant and so had she.

Pretty as a flower, but mischievous and rebellious, Doris dated the jock and saw him mature into an army officer. He would always bring her a little posy of daisies, probably plucked hastily from someone's lawn, when he visited. They married at respectable ages, having mellowed enough to camouflage themselves into suburbia. Doris worked in the library she'd loved as a child and Jonathan worked hard to become a well-respected military man. They never had a family but were content as could be.

A few years before the world was nuked, he went away to fight on foreign shores. She received a telegram bearing condolences. Lost in action, presumed dead.

Oh, for a few years, she hoped. Then the bombs dropped, taking away her home, her looks and her hopes. The first few years were terrible and so was she. A hellion survivor, she started going by 'Daisy' and stumbled into Goodneighbour in the first month of its creation.

"I can wait all day, its only been, what, coupla centuries and change? Don't you recognise me without my hair? Moustache? Eyebrows? Follicles went AWOL, along with my nose. Radiation stinks."

He held out a bunch of carrot flowers ('near as you get to daisies, these days') and waited as she unseeingly scrabbled beneath the counter for something. A rather dusty Closed sign emerged with Daisy as she glided over to her long lost love.

A long candlelit evening in the V.I.P. lounge followed, over good wine and brahmin steaks. The tale Jonathan 'Wiseman' told was long and heartbreaking until the very end, as he stood and danced a slow, slow dance with his happily ever after.


	9. An Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An honest man and a liar walk into a bar...well, they would if they'd built one yet. Campfire it is, then.

Deacon and Glenn sit and banter round the campfire at Tenpines Bluff

"Why lie? I still don't get it. Lying can't be helpful."

"I told you exactly why I'm a fraud. Are you a fraud too 'cause you said you take stuff too literally. You were the one who told me that you couldn't tell when people are lying, yet you managed to catch me out. Twice."

"Gut feeling."

"You sure your gut wasn't lying to you?"

"It can't. Otherwise there'd be no phrase called 'gut feeling'."

"But your gut can be wrong."

"Yeah, but it feels different when its wrong."

"So…are you sayin' your a human lie detector?"

"Well, I've never tried it on synths."

"What? Oh..a synth lie dete..? No, that's not what I meant. You took me too literally."

"You see? Nora used to pick me up on…nevermind."

"Back to the point in question, amigo. Lying is, like, a defence mechanism."

"It's like a defense mechanism, or it *is* a defence mechanism?"

"Whoa there, Mr. Pedantic. Yes. It is a defence mechanism. See, I weave this little web so I can feel the twangs when someone gets too close to my delicate centre."

"But you let me in because I called you out?"

"Well.."

"Doesn't that make the lying irrelevant?"

"No! You see, it was like a test."

"You mean it *was* a test."

"Yeah. Anyway. I didn't know you from Joe, so I just set up those little white lie hurdles."

"What color is a bad lie supposed to be, then?"

"Oh, my friend, all the shades in the rainbow. Anyhue, you stuck by me..."

"Because Desdemona told me to."

"…and you impressed me."

"I almost did my missions solo because of your bullshit."

"Yes, but you knew it was bullshit. I stank of it and yet you stayed."

"You know I hate lies. I told you, I trusted my gut. I kinda liked your jokes, too."

"That warms my heart. Sincerely."

"There's a word you don't use often."

"Got me there, pal."

"So why are we arguing about this? Just stop spouting turdbombs."

"Its a habit. A defensive habit."

"But it could hurt you as much as protect you."

"…yeah. Well. Maybe I like hurting myself just a little bit to try and remind myself how to be one of the good guys."

"But hurting yourself makes no sense. It makes you weaker."

"No. Ok, I give in, logic-boy. I make no sense. I am not straight forward. I try to be one of the good guys every day but I just can't wash the stains out. You call me Deacon but that wasn't my first name. I've buried that one. If I lie its 'cause I just can't hold the truth long enough to cage it in words. But, just for you, I'll do my damnedest. Even if it hurts."

"I didn't like you at first, Deacon."

"Not surprised."

"Then I did like you but not what you told me. You felt off."

"Yeah. This noggin here is a bad egg, alright."

"When you cut the crap, I met you properly and you know what?"

"Erm..you stopped eating eggs? No, wait! You guessed my natural hair colour."

"No, yes and I liked you."

"Oh."

"You're a good egg, Deke."

"Don't ever call me 'Deke' again."

"Beacon?"

"Cause my head is so shiny? Yeah. Eggs n beacon. My new codename."

"You're full of it, man."

"Don't you just know it. Let's go save that Synth."


	10. An AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familiar characters out of place in an Alternate Universe.

The sun shone down on the settlement. It was finally beginning to look like something, now Vin and Mac had set up provisioner routes, a shop and an armour smithy. A proper little village.

"Crops are comin' in pretty good, lately," remarked Vin. The attendant villager just 'hmm'-ed in reply. 

MacCready climbed the tower that they'd built around a tree. He loved perching up high where he could see the landscape, from the edge of the sea to the dead forest and all the way to the mountain, with its tunnels and caves. For a moment, he thought he spotted something green moving near the cave-mouth but then it was gone in a bang and a flash. "Stupid explosive-toting greenskins," he muttered.

In their wooden hut, Vin was packing a chest full of extra supplies. Food, weapons, clothing and all kinds of ingredients. Mac came in looking thoughtful. 

"What's up, MacCready?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Something feels… _off_.

"Like how?"

"Well…when you woke up this morning, you had a pillow, right?"

"Er…yeah. It's kinda flat, though. Need to scav a new one."

"Right. And the bed cover?"

"Same as always, thick and cosy."

"What colour, gray?"

"No, red, like all the beds."

"Well, what about those things we fought last night. Ghouls, right?"

"You sure they're not zombies? Or were you talking about one of those other monsters lurking underground?"

"Hmm. Not sure.Then there's the cat we caught. Bit bigger'n I was expecting."

"Why? There's only one kind of cat in these parts."

"Still…something's different. I just can't put my finger on it."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll figure it out. Here, if we're going to reach the end, you'll need this."

MacCready caught it, took off his cap and replaced it with the Diamond Helmet, hefted his bow on his back and got his pickaxe out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total silliness inspired by gaming with my sprog.


	11. Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its...its all wrong.

Lorelei Anderson, Overboss of Nuka-World looked out over her estate. She and Gage had just returned from Bradberton where a horde of ferals had suddenly ambushed them. They slaughtered the lot, of course but Lore had got such a rush, especially after having had a tough fight with a particularly pestulent bloated one that the adrenaline was still pumping even now. She felt something that rarely bothered her. She felt aroused.

"Gage," she drawled as she sat cross-legged on a diner table. She rubbed her hand slowly over her crotch. "I've an itch that needs scratching. Get me something to scratch it with, will you?"

Her body language was clear in its summoning charm but Porter Gage had sworn to himself that he wouldn't get…intimate…again. He pushed shuddering thoughts of Colter aside.

"Now, Boss, you know I ain't gonna get all personal on yer ass. Gimme a moment an' I'll bring you someone. Dick or cunt?"

"Now Porter, I'm an old-fashioned lady, remember! I don't get the itch but once in a blue moon but when I do, I need a man."

Gage tipped his head slightly to one side and gave her that wry grin, the one that told her she was bad and he loved her for it. He left the room.

Lorelei felt her heart beating in her chest, blood rushing in her ears, the anticipatory tingle in her loins. She wasn't about to waste time waiting for the itch-scratching-stick to arrive, so she gingerly let her fingertips trail up her inside thigh, until she felt the soft bulge of those netherlips. She lightly caressed the fabric of her crotch, teasing the nerve endings that reached out to the boundary of her skin, waiting for the tingle. 

The sun dyed the clouds in fantastic hues, a green radstorm in the distance to one side, fluffy peach-orange clouds to the other with crimson fury bursting out in between. She rubbed, she wet, she rolled her hips oh so slightly on the hard table until she heard footsteps.

The door burst open and there was Gage, a very smug and dangerous look on his face and a handful of duster as he held his mercenary son out in front of him. 

MacCready was quietly furious. He'd lain with Lore, sure but he'd also done that before she became Overboss, before he'd got in way over his head and got trapped here. Before he knew the one-eyed bastard in a cage was his progenitor.

Lorelei, on the other hand, looked delighted. She'd enjoyed their dalliance but truth be told, she desired Gage. The one person she knew she couldn't have. Well, there was a way round that, she supposed.

"Lock the door. RJ, strip….but slowly. Gage, you sit right there. I want to look into your eye as I fuck your boy."

"Damn, boss. You're twisted! I like it," he lied carefully. Gage was good at lying carefully. Inside, he was cringing. He'd rather be guarding the door.…though, he did fancy catching a peek…

"MacCready, its been a while," Lorelei purred.

"Sure has, boss. Want the mutfruit?"

"Absolutely not. That was gross. Here, give me your trigger finger."

He did as he was told and Lore took a swig of Vodka, held it in her mouth as she inserted his finger, teased her tongue around it, sucking and circling, then pulled him out and spat the vodka into a plant pot. Every now and then, she'd look up at Gage, who was obediently staring right back at her.

She ordered the naked merc to slowly strip her down, cooing metaphoric words about stripping rifles as he did so, making suggestive comments about oily fingers and hair triggers. Naked, now, she hooked her legs around his bare waist to be transported to the bed, the old springs creaking and the wooden frame groaning. She slowly arched back like an acrobat in a show, to rock her hips against his legs. MacCready was trying to fight his erection and his nausea about Gage being present but his body did not have the same complex feelings about Lorelei. It simply desired her and perked up when she caused a tentative friction with her groin.

She took his trigger finger and placed it on her clitoris. "Line up your shot, sniper boy. Squeeze the trigger slowly, slo- oh!-owly. That's it, gently, gently." 

Gage sat there, watching, his eyebrow raised as he scratched his mohawk roughly but didn't utter a sound.

RJ did as he was told, licking nipples, earlobes, eyelids, cunt; nipping at tender bits of flesh and teasing pubic hair in his tugging fingertips. He trailed a jagged fingernail down her ribs to her thigh. She rolled over to her knees and grabbed his hips, jamming him quickly into her as she screamed in painful pleasure from the forced stretch. Slowly, slowly they found a rhythm and MacCready forgot his audience until she screamed out. She placed that trigger finger in her anus and made him pleasure her twofold.

"Gage! Oh Gage you filthy ass cunt-fucker. You glorious one-eyed oldboy. Shit… oh…oh Nnnnn…"

He pulled out just as he came, following in the tsunami of her orgasm. A few moments passed, Gage scratched his stubble and nodded his head in approval but still dare say nothing. Lorelei stretched gloriously, then suddenly whipped upright and threw her arm out, her finger pointing to the door. "Out. Both of you."

MacCready hurriedly grabbed his gear and ran for the door, Gage giving him a little shove between his grubby naked shoulderblades. 

Overboss Lore wiped herself over with a rag at the sink, not caring that if an Operator or Pack member were to look up at that moment, they'd see their Overboss in the flesh. She pulled on a ragged but clean oversized Cappy t-shirt and lay back down on the bed, spent. A small smirk lingered at the corner of her mouth as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the one thing she could never fully possess, her Porter Gage.


	12. Major Character Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of Shaun from my oc Vincent's world, we discover the ultimate fates of each of the companions.

This? This was my Dad's. It came from the Vault he was preserved in. You want to hear a story, then? Alright. But this story isn't about him. Instead, I'll let this old Pip-Boy lead the way. You see, I found a list of names on it. People he'd called 'companion' at one time or another, though he didn't always like them. Poppa spent hours sitting round the fire, telling their stories so I know how each and every one goes. I know you know those stories pretty well too but you don't know how they ended. Get comfortable and I'll tell you how each and every one of them died.

**Cait**

She adored her General and Ronnie Shaw became like a mother to her, well, that and the toughest drill sergeant you ever had. Cait and a troop of Minutemen were following a band of Raiders who had probably come over from Nuka-World at some point. She chased them right down to the edge of the Glowing Sea, took 'em all out without losing a man but the battle woke up a family of Deathclaws hiding just under the broken overpass.

The juveniles they dealt with quickly but according to Hank, who was one of the troop, a trio of Radscorpions joined in. Well, the Deathclaw turned its attention to one of the 'scorps but the other two had cut off the escape route. By the time they'd dealt with those, they had run out of ammunition for the weapons they had left ; one of the guns had jammed and the other got dropped down a crevice. The Deathclaw matriarch was enraged. She grabbed Cait by the waist. Cait, well she just ordered her men to 'fucking run!' and beat that thing's eyesocket in with her power fist. As it flailed in its death throes, still holding tight to his Sergeant, Hank told me he heard Cait's bones break and saw her head smash on a rock. 

We always knew she'd go down fighting.

**Codsworth**

I miss his jokes. There's nothing much to tell here. He was happily whistling one day, trimming the mutfruit in Sanctuary when there was a bang, his thruster sputtered and went out and he just dropped to the ground. Poppa and Ingram spent a week trying to fix him, then lugged him over to see if Isabel could sort him out. She managed to get some basic functions online but he just wasn't Codsworth anymore, so it was decided to drop him into the forge at Saugus. Poppa kept his bowler hat and his flamethrower nozzle because he said he always thought it looked like a cigar. Pop loved cigars…

**Curie**

Now there's a loss. She left quite a legacy, though and the Curie Centre at Boston Airport has become what the Institute really should have been, except on a much smaller scale. She came to Pop one day and informed him that she had detected a fault developing in her cardio-vascular system. It seems that us synths aren't immune to mortality after all. 

Well, she calmly put all her affairs in order, gave everyone she called family a warm embrace, went to bed, closed her eyes and just…just stopped. Sorry. Damn. Wish I could do tears. Yeah. She was like an aunt to me. 

**Danse**

If Curie was my aunt then ex-paladin Saul J. Danse was certainly my uncle. I spent a lot of time with him, growing up (so to speak). When he was rejected by Maxson, he changed his name to 'Diesel Dan'. No, he didn't choose it, bet you can guess who did. Anyway, Rhys left the Brotherhood and joined the Minutemen to be with him. Their wedding was awesome. Two guys in flame-painted power armour, kissing beneath a flaming heart wreath? Epic. 

Well, those two were key in helping Sanctuary become what it is today but that's another story. When Rhys died a happy old man, Dan just told us he was done and goodbye. He walked up north past the Vault and never came back…so he could be alive out there, somewhere but I don't feel that's true. He's gone, somehow. We'll never really know.

**Deacon**

Pop didn't trust him. He wanted to like him but said the guy was a compulsive liar though he had a good heart. You know what went down when the Brotherhood and Railroad both forced my dad into choosing sides. It tore him up but he said he made it quick, for all of them.

**Dogmeat**

Oh shoot I miss that mutt. This little puppy princess here is his great..great granddaughter though. Yeah, he found love with the Junkyard gal and their bloodline has proved a good one. Loyal and strong. Old Dogmeat, well when his back legs started giving out he stayed here. Passed away peacefully in front of the fire one night with a full belly and a rub between the ears. He's buried in the yard out back.

**Hancock**

How do *you* think he went out? Yep, in bed with a couple of twins, high as a kite, laughing his ass off. What he left behind, though…he was one of the key members of the Commonwealth Council that drew up the new charter which includes Freedom, Tolerance, Interdependence Public Responsibility and the Right to Party. He took over as Governor when Preston resigned. A lot of people owe him their gratitude. And he still flirted with Pop whenever he could, heh.

**Nick Valentine**

Detective Nick Valentine. He really was one of a kind. You can find a VDA in every large settlement these days since he took on apprentices after the defeat of the Institute. Danny Sullivan's kid Dirk is still one of the best. 

Old Ellie came into the office one day to find him sitting at his desk, a little smile on his face, an untouched cigarette burned to a snake of ashes and a drop of whiskey in his glass but those amber eyes had lost their light. He's buried by the Wall. We later buried Ellie next to him.

**Old Longfellow**

Can you believe he lived 'til he was one hundred and eleven years old? Well, for the last couple of decades he was pretty much part of the furniture at the Last Plank. They took good care of him. He married Cassie Dalton but she only lived for just over a year after that. Still, they were happy. Bickered alot but happily. He died with a whiskey in his hand and a song on his lips.

**Piper**

Feisty, right to the end. The Great War wiped out alot of things but not those medical demons that have haunted mankind since the beginning. She got sick, real sick. There was nothing anyone could do for her, though we tried. 

Piper set up a press at every large settlement, recruited new writers. Its amazing what people can do when they're not busy fighting just to survive. She ran writing classes at both schools, taught Survival Journalism and still managed to raise her little sister Nat to be one of the most impressive, inspiring women I've ever met.

She loved him right 'til the end though nothing ever came of it, except that last kiss goodnight. She died too soon.

Fuck cancer.

**Porter Gage**

He used Pop to clear Nuka-World, tried to get the Sentinel-General to turn raider. You know how that ended. Apparently his last words were "No…not like this!" Betrayal is a bitter poison. Some just have it coming.

**Preston**

He retired to Abernathy with his wife Lu. You know what Preston did for the Commonwealth, everyone does. He was loved, surrounded by his children, grandchildren and great grand-daughter Nora-Lu. He was covered in scars, missing an ear and silver-grey haired when he finally passed but I'll always remember the man as he was when I met him and that first warm smile he gave me.

**Strong**

He went to live with Erikson in Far Harbor and hoped to form a Shake-spear-troop. He was killed by friendly fire when he returned to the Commonwealth to visit Rex. Pop only tolerated him, really. I kinda liked the big green doofus.

**X6-88**  
On the beach at Nordhagen after my dad chased him down. Not much to say about that. Just another dead genetically engineered killing machine.

I missed one? No, I… I'm not sure if I can talk about that. He was my other dad, after all. Ask Duncan, he'll tell you. Speak up, though, my elderly little bro is a bit deaf these days. Sorry folks, that's all you're getting out of Proctor Shaun MacCready-Hudson today. I need a quiet whiskey.


	13. Hurt, Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-canon alternative universe Minutemen / Institute.

_Skyler Katrijnora Woods_ the pen declared to the paper. Skyler watched the blue-black ink dry and lose its shine.

"Hmm. Your middle name, of Dutch origin, I believe?" Father's tone, as carefully manicured as his brittle nails, made her jump. 

"Yeah. Well, that's what she told me, not that she or Grandmammy spoke any foreign words. I mean, what's the point, these days."

"Oh, I don't know. It is rather sad, don't you think, to see this multiculturalism dwindle away, to fade as does so much valuable knowledge held prisoner in ignorance by brutes."

"Like the greenskins at Boston Library."

"Quite so. Now, dear sister, you should prepare. You have so," Father unintentionally punctuated his sentence with a rattling cough, "so _very_ much to learn."

"I'm cleverer than I look."

"Indeed you are. They should learn not to underestimate you. They still see you as an uneducated Wastelander, I'm afraid, despite the involvement in your…upbringing…that some of them have had."

"So, Shaun, tell me again. I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this."

"Of course, dear. Would you like a cup of tea, as we speak? I should partake. It may help with this *cough* this chest."

"Yeah, sure. English style. You have milk, right? Sugar, too?"

"Near perfect substitutes, yes."

Skylar sat on the white couch, hoping she wouldn't soil it. She checked her lipgloss in a reflective metal post nearby and tried to tame a few glossy dark brunette tresses as she waited. She could have been a model for the kind of aircraft nose art you found sometimes on pre-war vertibirds. Pale skin, dark hair, blue eyes and ruby red lips with an hourglass figure and more than a hint of sass. She had come to the Institute as a born-and-bred Wastelander. She'd grown up on a farm, trained and worked as a caravan guard and relatively recently, joined the Minutemen. 

The Vault-Dweller, their General, had been working on getting into the Institute but had suddenly passed away in his sleep before managing to use the huge structure that sat ominously at the Red Rocket, just outside Sanctuary Hills. Docs had mumbled something about 'complications of cryogenics' and shaken their heads.

Preston Garvey had almost collapsed in his grief, his hope now fragile. He gathered his finest Minutemen and they drew lots to choose a new infiltrator. Skyler had recently made Sergeant, training under Ronnie Shaw and she was quite literally the best shot they had.

So off she had zapped, into the heart of the lair. The voice that came over the intercom sounded shocked.

"You are an intruder here. How did you relay?" She didn't answer. There had been static for a good five minutes, whilst she cautiously looked around the chamber beyond. A blue panel of light shone across her momentarily and the speaker crackled to life again.

"Forgive me, you are not who I was expecting, but it seems that fate has intervened. Please, step into the elevator."

The door slid round, allowing her access. She stepped in, checking all around for traps but could see no sign of such. The door swung shut and she felt the tube descend.

A pregnant pause, white lights flashing by.

"Welcome to the Institute…dear sister."

* * *   
Shaun poured golden-brown tea into pristine, antique porcelain cups. Skyler helped herself to milk and three sugar cubes. She slyly pocketed two but savoured the one in her tea.

"As I said before, dear, when Kellogg unfortunately dispatched Eleanora Woods, one of the specialist's scanners picked up a weak life-sign. You were," he pause, shaking his head a little, gesticulating ( _he's forgetting words again, it's getting worse_ ) "...embryonic, our mother probably didn't even know that she'd fallen pregnant again so soon. Fortunately, the team had the right equipment to preserve what little there was of you, which was kept in cryogenic suspension for thirty-seven years."

"So…technically I'm sixty years old?"

"Technically speaking, we both began in 2077 but neither of us is physically two hundred and eleven years old. No, my dear little sister, you are still a youthful twenty-three year old."

"Well that's a relief. Sorry. Go on."

"Yes. Well, your body was implanted into a volunteer host, a surrogate mother."

"Human or synth?"

"Human, of course. All synthetics are neuter, my dear, though they may appear 'male' or 'female'. That distinction was only made to allow them to blend in above ground. It would have been disastrous to allow them to reproduce themselves!"

"So… Mum was from here?"

"No. Your surrogate had a psychotic episode and escaped us. I sent Kellogg to track her down and return her but then had a flash of inspiration. We, the directorate, agreed to allow you to be raised above ground, to see if that would instil some useful qualities. After all, those who do survive are resourceful and of strong constitution. The volunteer passed shortly after giving birth. You were taken in by those people you called your parents. Irony - or fate? - that they should bear the same family name."

"They _were_ my parents damn it, Shaun.…but that means…the General was my real father. Damn. I should've spent more time with him."

Skyler stared into the dregs of her teacup, images of the Vault Dweller's cocky grin fading into the memory of seeing him carry his wife - her mother - from Vault 111 to be buried in the back yard of their old home. 

"I'm so very sorry, dear. They were m *cough* my parents too, after all.

The new Director of the Institute looked down at the contract she had just signed. The Institute was under Minutemen control, now. She couldn't save her big brother even if she had wanted too, but maybe she could bring comfort to those that they had hurt, right some wrongs. Her dad would've liked that.


	14. 100 Word Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The in-game mechanics / eccentricities / downright glitches are wonderful flints with which to spark inspiration.

"So, why d'you never pick up those nice white towels we find from time to time?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Y'know. Those pristine, fluffy lookin' white cloths we find in hotels and places like that?"  
"Have you ever tried picking them up?"  
"Well….no…"  
"Beautifully preserved but solid as a rock. Hotels back in the day used some kinda starch with the Abraxo. Soft as kittens when you felt a freshly washed one."  
"I've never tried drying off with kittens."  
"Funny. Anyhow, rads set off some kinda chemical reaction or somethin'. Set 'em hard. So, no clean towels in the apocalypse.


	15. Past, Present, Future, All in the Same Fic

**Vincent**  
The letterbox clanked and the mail thudded softly onto the mat. Vincent bent down to pick it up and his side errupted with stabbing pain. Nora pushed open the squeaky concertina door. "Hon, oh hon, Doc McKinley said you weren't to bend down like that for another week!"

"I'm fine. I was only picking up the mail, Nora," grumbled the retired Staff Sergeant.

"Milly can do that, can't you girl?" said his wife.

The young german shepherd barked her soft acknowledgement. Vincent gingerly walked two steps to the old brown couch and eased himself down onto it. You could get everywhere in this tiny apartment in just two steps. He tore open the largest envelope, hoping for some good news. It was. Vin smiled and twisted round to tell Nora.

"Hey..ohh fucknuke… No, no, just tugged the stitches again."

"Let me see, you old crosspatch. Oh, I'm just going to fetch the antiseptic and change the dressing. You silly."

Vin looked suitably chastised.

"So what did the postman bring?" called Nora from the bathroom.

"The real estate papers. We got the house, Sugarbomb!"

Nora practically ran back, looking like she might have leapt onto his lap. Normally, she would've but the injury that had brought her man back to her made her settle for easing herself down gently beside him on the tiny couch.'

"We can finally settle down, start a family,"

"Buy a three-seater," chuckled Vin.

"What was the name of the estate, again?"

Vincent didn't need to look at the papers. "Sanctuary Hills."

**Lorelei**

Nate's arms wrapped around her waist, his hands rubbing over the smooth fabric of her pencil skirt.

"I'm late, babe. Boss is already pissed at me this week for making him look bad in front of the client. No, leave my neck alone," Lorelei smirked.

"Alright, spoilsport. I was only trying to kiss my wife goodbye."

The dog decided that now would be a good time to wind herself around their legs and share some of the attention. She jumped up.

"Millicent! Down, girl!" scolded Nate. 

A letter plopped through the door and Lorelei scooped it up. "I'll open this later."

"Uh-uh. Give it here, looks like its about the house." Nate opened the envelope and read the cover letter. "Yes! We got it!"

"The one by the lake? Serenity Hills?"

"Sanctuary. Yeah. Woo! We can start over, get settled down…get ready for parenthood," Nate raised an eyebrow and did that lopsided grin Lorelei could never resist.

"Dammit, Nate. Do me a favor, babe and phone my boss? Say I ate bad seafood. I haven't bunked off for two years."

"You're a bad, bad girl."

Lorelei rubbed her lipstick slowly with her finger and led him toward the thick hearth rug. "You have _no_ idea."

 

**Glenn**

The dog sat by the bathroom door, whining. Nora quickly clacked upstairs in her high heels, a worried frown on her face. "Glenn, honey, open the door. Millie's trying to help."

A muffled voice came from inside. "She's too much. Just need quiet."

"Alright but we need to go soon. I'll give you ten minutes."

Behind the locked door, Glenn held his knees and rocked gently. The dog was a gift from the trauma support charity but he'd have preferred a cat. Dogs were too big and bounding and smelly for him to cope with when he felt like this.

The letter from the real-estate agent had brought on an 'episode'. Just the thought of moving, of such a huge change had made him panic. Why he could be deployed anywhere and not have a meltdown, stay cool under fire and think clearly in combat yet be set off by the most mundane thing at home was beyond his current psych-doc's understanding.

He rolled and squeezed a baseball in his hand, the repetitive motion calming his mood. His ten minutes were up, so he stood, splashed water on his face and re-tied his topknot. It would be OK, Nora had his back.

She laid a hand gently on his arm and a kiss tentatively on his lips. He kissed her back, more firmly, the paper and the baseball falling to the floor as the kiss evolved into a passionate embrace. They parted, both smiling. "Better, love?" she asked.

"Better. I'm ready for a new chapter. Let's go sign for that house."

"You sure? Ready for the patter of little feet and the stink of little diapers?"

"I meant what I said. I love you."

 **Vincent** **Lorelei** **Glenn**  
I'm awake. Can't feel my body….wait, yes I can. A thousand needles stabbing into my chest, a strange, surgical smell in the air that my lungs forcibly inhale. The pounding of my accelerating heartbeat like a giant gorilla trying to break through me. A flash of pain, my head, white light, stabbing, piercing through my skull, my limbs tense and release, my hands and feet barely registering their existence. The door opens suddenly. I try to step out but I'm weak, so weak. I stagger upright to stare into the sarcophagus before me. The memory crashes into me like a hit-and-run. 

They're gone.

 **Vincent**  
The line tugged. Vincent woke up from his unintended nap to reel the fish in. The boys were away, Shaun working on the Prydwen, Duncan over at Spectacle Island doing Minutemen training. It wasn't exactly the kind of military school that Vin attended in his faraway youth but close. Better, in fact. The Minutemen and Brotherhood worked together well, newcomers could choose to jump straight into full-time as an Initiate or volunteer as a Private. Local knowledge was swapped for martial expertise, a win/win situation.

Vincent heard uneven footsteps and turned to see the top of that old, green cap before the once-brown grey hair beneath it. 

"There you are, almost thought…"

"You know I'd never forget about you," Vin interrupted. "Here, I caught exactly one fish. Not even sure it's edible."

"Heh. You know, this retirement thing is weird. What say we go and have ourselves an adventure?"

"With your foot and my back, we'd be lucky to make it to Nuka World." 

"Or beyond? Wonder what's out there, north or south? We'll take the power armour. Keep on going 'til we run out of juice."

"You sure, Robert?"

"Yes. I am. There's nothing left for us to do here except rot in the sun, like that fish you should put in a cooler. The boys are men, now. I…I don't want Shaun or Duncan to see you get.."

"No, I know. You're right. But if… if you end up alone, you head back home, y'hear?"

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Don't give me that 'boss' crap. C'mere you handsome old rascal and help me up. We should get packing. The boys'll be back in three days. They can see us off at the station."

"D'you think someone'll write a comic about us one day?"

"Heh, you _wish_ , GrogMac, you wish."

**Lorelei**

_Just my luck._ She couldn't feel a thing, though the red rivulets ran down her pale fingers, the rain whipping them to flow faster. He was on his knees below her, crying his eye out, the explosively crushed remains of that one, last Disciple under his beefed-up Super Sledge.

The Commonwealth had bowed in fear before her, yielded their crops, their lands and eventually their sons and daughters to the Overboss, Chief Operator and Master of the Pack. 

The Minutemen had crumbled in the hour of their resurgence; the Brotherhood, their pride and joy deflated and torn from the sky by the upstart volunteer militia, the Railroad toppled by the Brotherhood before their fall and the Institute….the Institute, uprooted with nuclear fire by the Overboss masquerading under a perfect disguise - truth - the General of the Minutemen.

Well, her time was up. She'd changed the face of the Commonwealth, made lesser raiders turn or run, made Gunners into Operators or entrails, made the Supermutants think twice before encroaching on their territory. She'd sent the Pack to hunt every edible monster out there and they had feasted. 

It got damn boring after a while, this _maailmansota_.

Well, until just now. It was a relief, actually, to finally be ripped from this life that she was just unable to let go of, to dangle there unfeeling on the end of that impressive spear, lodged in the ground. Yes, she'd hang there for generations, an historic monument to be visited in awe at least once in your miserable life.

It was only in her last moments that she fully realised everything that she'd lost. Her life before the bombs, her husband, her chance to be a mom, her goodness, her sanity. One thing remained, a fleeting thing.

She turned wide eyes to Porter Gage, kneeling on the ground in mud, blood and guts, crying "Boss, oh Lore, Boss" over and over again in a voice too rough to carry. She tried to reach out but her body was almost beyond her control. Her whispered last words reached his ears but he didn't understand.

_"Mä rakastan sua…"_

**Glenn**

"They called him The Wanderer, Knight, General. He brought us back from the brink, to unify, to work together in peace. Humans, Ghouls, Synth Refugees. We all have a fighting chance now, thanks to Glenn 'Nate' Summers." Deacon's voice cracked at the last syllable, his ubiquitous sunglasses hung at his back pocket, his tired eyes red and sore.

Preston Garvey, Desdemona and Arthur Maxson themselves lowered his coffin into the ground. Piper and MacCready entwined fingers, both having known him more intimately than anyone else alive.

Paladin Danse called the Three Gun Salute. Laser gun, Laser musket and Deliverer fired three times.

Afterwards, at the memorial feast, someone asked Deacon how he died.

"He was playing baseball, like it used to be played, hit a home-run, had a heart-attack, gone. Boom. With the crowd roaring in his ears. The crowd…roaring…" Deacon collapsed onto a chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the tears.

"End of game."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Sohvaperunah for help with Finnish!


	16. A Piece From Your Life as Fanfiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much of this is true...with a little Fallout twist.

I remember waking up and choking. For a moment, I wondered where I was and then I remembered: the Vault. They'd rushed me to the Vault when the bleeding started. I'd just stood up to finally take a shower when I felt thirsty, so thirsty, then dizzy…then the wet shower floor was mingling with blood. I remember being strangely calm, looking over at them standing in the corner, my love and our baby. Our newborn. I told them it would be alright, that I'd see them again soon.

After that, I remember nothing until I awoke with a tube down my throat, a figure in faded whites rushing to my side, choking on phlegm as the plastic cylinder was carefully withdrawn.

It started coming back to me: the Med-Vault. Yes, they'd brought me here when labour hadn't progressed and the sirens had started. I remember the panic as we were rushed through the huge metal door, the lights on the ceiling, my lover's worried face. Not many patients on gurneys made it in. A doctor was shouting '..to capacity! No more!' I was taken from one room to another, jabbed full of needles, pads stuck all over, machines and tubes and nurses pushing my knees apart to tell me that the baby had a good head of hair, was distressed, must act now, sign this please. It all happened so fast after the long, painful, expectant wait where nothing seemed to fully happen for days.

Then I was in the operating theatre, a needle in my back turning my legs to useless, inconvenient flesh, curtains drawn over my belly and feeling the rocking of my hips as they pulled and tugged the new human being into the world. A cry. A daze, which rose like dawn into a new era of wonder called Parenthood. My love cradled the baby in their arms, the being that we had only known by the whimsical name of 'Wigglebump'. "Welcome to the world then, Wigglebump," grinned the surgeon as he lay the bundle on my shoulder where I stared at it blurrily, in awe. Oh, we found the right name soon after but I shall keep that secret, as if this were an old, old fairytale. Names have power, you see.

The room they wheeled me in to recover was shared by one other. Frightened by the sirens, perhaps, the sudden closing of the door, she screamed and wept, chattered in a panic. I could not sleep, could not rest. I was promised to be moved as soon as they could find somewhere to put me. Well, they did, but only after I bled. When I awoke, everything had changed.

The lights were dim, I wondered how the nurse could see. Then I saw her face. It was terrible. Her hair had all gone, her skin reddened and shrivelled, her pupils blown and she'd never again use the phrase 'as plain as the nose on my face' because it was gone. Still, she carried on as if nothing had changed, checking equipment, removing a needle and sticking a pad over it with a strip of duct tape. She held out a can of purified water and in a gravelly voice, told me to drink.

She monitored me closely for the next few hours and when I was strong enough to, I lifted myself onto my elbows and asked what had happened.

Two hundred and ten years had gone by, that's what. 

I had had a haemorrage after the c-section. The nurse, who introduced herself as Allie, had sympathetically informed me that in order to stop the bleeding, they were forced to perform a hysterectomy. They had sealed me in an Intesive Care Cryopod - the latest in medical equipment, she boasted half-heartedly - intending to await rescue and continue my treatment. Well, help never came, the Vault was shaken by an Earthquake and the ICU cut off from the rest of it. 

Nurse Allie told me how there had been sounds from beyond the blocked door for a few years, then nothing. Recently, another quake had rocked the place and damaged the generator that kept the pods functioning and so I had been woken up.

It seems that the pod had not halted time altogether. My wounds looked like they had just healed and my stomach growled for attention. Allie started as if at a sudden sound but she reached into her pinny pocket and pulled out two faded photographs of a baby in a lemon knitted cap. It took me a moment to process the fact that this was my child and then a moment later, that this child had most likely passed away, whether in the first root of its life or the withered old flower. Images of my love holding our child were all I could see for however long I stared, imobile, at the wall. 

Eventually, I returned, enough to force down an ancient can of Pork 'n' Beans followed by a hospital special, Nuka-Quantum jelly. Surprisingly, it stayed down. Allie found me some clothes to wear, though no bra for my aching, full breasts. She showed me how to express and was a little disturbing in her eagerness to suggest that we needed it ourselves. I put the lid on the bottle and hid it away. Besides, it was a tiny amount that emerged. I had not been very successful in breastfeeding after the birth.

The lights flickered as a crash sounded beyond the door. Then another and…was that a voice? Yes, voices, though we could neither of us make out the words. Nurse Allie went to the blocked door and although it lacked a power source, she dug her nail-less fingers in and heaved. I tried to help but she shouted at me to get back in bed! More banging and scraping sounds and then a crowbar was shoved through the tiny gap and a voice shouted "Watch out!"   
I ran, barefooted still, to the door, summoned by a voice I thought would never hear again. The door crumpled and gave in and there they stood, the radiation-wizened surgeon, a tall, muscular man with a horseshoe moustache, a slight man with a long gun and a green hat, holding a yellow bundle in his arms and…my love! We rushed toward each other, tears streaming, throats to choked with dust and emotion to speak and embraced. The man with the hat delivered the bundle into my lover's arms and I saw…our child. That very same hat, knitted with lemon wool, those cheeks, those screwed up eyes, that wisp of dark hair that my eyes saw on the faded instagraphs in my shaking hand. 

The surgeon explained, in a rough, shakey voice, that there had been one uninstalled cryopod and that the Vault mechs had managed to get it jury-rigged. It had ceased working a day before mine. Fate had kept us alive and brought us back together. We were led up to the surface by our rescuers and taken on the long, long journey to a place called the Commonwealth. 

That was eight years ago, now. My body did not survive unscathed, it revealed its weaknesses and disabilities but I'm grateful to still be alive. I'm still not quite used to it - parenthood, that is. It is more awe inspiring than the way life survived the nukes, more challenging than anything I had experienced until I became a parent. I wouldn't change it for the world, though it seems that the world had to change for it. We can build a better place for our children. They can learn from our mistakes and from our triumphs. We can survive but they, they can *thrive*.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real story in a nutshell: I had a baby, I nearly died. Not wishing to be overly dramatic but childbirth is risky enough without undiagnosed Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and associated complications. A c-section saved my baby's life, a hysterectomy saved mine. I'm so grateful to be here, writing fanfic ♡
> 
> Comments and questions welcomed.


	17. Breaking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An origin story. Every superhero should have one.

"Stacy, if I've told you this once I've told you a thousand times. They just won't get it."

The tall, lanky guy sighed theatrically and put the tattered copy of Macbeth back in his pack.   
"Well then, Rita darling, what do you suggest? 'The Grognak Chronicles' again? Really. Give the people a little more credit. Now, if our audience were Raiders or Gunners, perhaps."

"Not this again," muttered a slim, angular man in an overlarge bowler hat whilst the other three members of the group just shook their heads and continued strapping chests onto Romeo-and-Juliet, the brahmin.

The Sandman Troupe were possibly the only travelling performers between the Capital Wasteland and the Commonwealth. They traded in stories and diversions as well as the usual staples of supplies and ammo. Stacy Norton was their star actor, a thespian to his core. In fact, it was his acting skills that had kept him alive for this long, not that he was old. You were lucky indeed if you survived past your mid-thirties in this cursed remnant of a world.

Stacy continued his monologue. "How many ruined houses do we find containing defunct picture boxes? More than those without! Proof indeed that past civilisation was educated through entertainment. Our mission is one of great import, I tell you! How else does one share the very milk of human kindness but through example? That, my dears, is our purpose. The plays themselves must be of a certain calibre, else all is in vain.'

One stagehand muttered to his neighbour, "Where'd he learn to talk, jeesh!"

Rita, looking for all the world like an old movie star until you saw the muddy boots and the telltale edge of her wig, stomped over to the towering thespian. " _Three caps, THREE!_ "she screeched. "That is all we made last night! I'm tellin' ya, I'm done. Wastin' good scavvin' time playin' let's pretend!" 

Stacy bent low, scooping some unseen thing from the ground which he held out to the puzzled glamour-queen. "You dropped these," he said in a hard-edged tone.

"What're you on about, ain't nothin' there."

He winced as she said 'ain't' and mimed catching something from her mouth.

"Your 'G's, dear. Five in total," and in a snarling voice added "Pronounciation, Rita."

She threw her wig to the floor and screamed in his face. "We're done! Finished! The _Fucking End_ , you hear me? Me an' the boys're goin' back to scavvin' an' tradin'. I don't care about yer stupid Macbuff. People don't need distractions anymore, they need caps, food, chems 'n' shit."

"Well, everyone needs _to_ shit, my dear," Stacy muttered.

"I've had enough, Stacy. Let's see how long you last without us. You're built like a streetlamp and you'll get cut down like a rotten old tree, " Rita glowered.

Stacy simply raised an eyebrow, made a show of studying his unusually clean nails and murmured, "You drastically underestimate my fortitude, my dear."

"What?"

"Let me rephrase that in a simplistic way that your overestimated intelligence might grasp: I am _strong_."

Rita threw a leather backpack at him with as much force as she could muster. " ' Be gone, then, you foul monstrous ogre', " she quoted at him (from their last Grognak play). Rita and the three others turned their backs on him and disappeared around a ruined building.

The theatrical castaway slung his back over his shoulder, fumbled for his pipe pistol and turned a dark corner. A black shape thrust a stunner into his chest and Stacy lost consciousness.

* * * 

Floating. A noise. Air! Breathe. I am… Contained….wall opening. Man. Restraints. No, strangle. Good, dead. Hand. Green hand. Strong hand.

"Emergency protocol! Contain it! Someone get the coursers here, now!"

That face. Staring little man. Crush him.

"I AM _STRONG!_

* * *

Rita the scavver lay broken on the road, alongside the two guards that failed to escape, crushed under the remains of Romeo-and-Juliet. The Supermutant loped away, feeling strangely satisfied. He would find others like himself and…and do something important. Just what that important task _was_ eluded his FEV altered mind. It had something to do with milk…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by watching various YouTube musings on the subject. I must admit that Strong is one of my least favourite companions because I can never quite justify having him along and wish that the obvious option to cure him had been offered.


	18. Involve Your Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every settlement needs a cat.

Glenn Summers made his way down the wooden stairs behind his new concrete workshop / house. As the second to last step creaked, a faint _mew_ sounded from inside the trap. His face brightened. He jumped down and flicked the switch to the Off position and crouched down as the trap door sprung open. He heard the tiny mewl again and bent right down to see right to the back. 

A pair of little blue eyes peered back at him, over a mouthful of softshell that was larger than it was, its little black nose twitching as it munched.

Glenn slowly reached a hand in, palm down, fingers loose. He'd always connected more easily with animals than people. They were far less complicated though often underestimated. Take Dogmeat, for example. He was his own man, an independent being in his own right. Just because he wasn't human didn't make him any less of a conscious being. Of course he had his challenges to overcome. What stories that dog might have told if he could speak…but he communicated perfectly well in his own, non-verbal way. 

Glenn was a little jealous, truth be told, for those times when his ability to form words with his mouth just wasn't there. As a child he'd been called 'quiet' and 'shy'. If only they could hear the storm of information that raged in his head at these times, too violent and too fast to be caught in spoken syllables. Glenn knew that animals experienced intangible thoughts, ideas, emotions. More anchored to the present than humans are but still able to draw from experience and contemplate the future.

The kitten dropped the impossible bite and sniffed Glenn's hand. He slowly brought his other in to tear a more manageable piece and proferred it toward the little cat. It must only be a coule of months old, away from its mother and siblings. Its little spiky tail pointed straight up as it took the morsel, purring even as it chewed. When it had swallowed, Glenn scooped it up in one hand and brought the little scamp to his chest.

A black nose in a mostly white face that tapered up to a lightning streak. Black ears and tail with white paws and tummy, he was the sweetest little thing Glenn had ever seen.

"I think I'm gonna call you….Momo, in honour of a friend of mine."

The kitten mewed in response.

* * *

Of all people, it was Marcy Long who took it upon herself to care for the kitten whilst Glenn was out 'Generaling'. She would save tidbits of meat, change his water every day and sneak up to Glenn's livingroom, sit on the daisy mat and nuzzle her nose into Momo's growing, soft belly.

When Glenn was home, he would be rewarded with bits of small creatures. Once, Momo dragged in a live molerat pup that he had to chase for a full hour before cornering it behind the chem bench and releasing it into the woods because he couldn't bring himself to put it down.

Mama Murphy could often be seen relaxing on her chair, a black and white ball of contentment upon her lap. She'd stroke him and talk to him about things that she told no-one else and fed him the squirrel bits that she always asked Jun to trade from Carla.

Dogmeat wanted badly to be Momo's friend but the cat contented himself with a precarious walk along any high, narrow ledge or fence top, just out of the dog's reach.

When other cats were caught, Momo was instantly their feline general. They roamed the settlement keeping it free of small pests and spreading happiness wherever they went. Well, except for that one settler, Charles, who kept sneezing and had to relocate to a feline-free zone.

Whenever Glenn returned to Sanctuary, Momo was there to greet him, tail up, eyes blinking cat-kisses, tummy hoping for a treat. He was the only living thing Glenn could bear near him when he habitually withdrew after a journey, to calm himself with soft, warm fur and the song of his purr.

General Summers was known to say "A settlement without a cat is like a baseball without a bat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Momo is now a year old and was named for the lemur bat in Avatar: Legend of Aang.  
>  桃 (momo) is also the Japanese word for peach and a kind of Tibetan dumpling.  
> He was a rescue kitten from the Cats Protection League. He has definitely increased our settlement's happiness.


	19. Domestic Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sole Survivor of Vault 111 and their Romanced Companion enjoy some free time together.

The General leaned back on the sofa, book in hand and put his feet up. Since the Commonwealth had begun the long healing process after the destruction of its insidious bogeyman, the remaining benevolent forces combined had restored a measure of peace that very few now living could recall. With peace came the almost extinct notion of 'free-time'.

"Hey, no boots on the table!"

"Oops. Sorry hon."

"Hon? As in, 'honey'? That's going on the 'in private only' and the 'once a month if you're lucky' list."

He chuckled and mumbled "Old habit," then sighed.

The kettle boiled noisily in the kitchen, the sound of steel clinking on ceramic kept time coincidentally with the upbeat rock on the radio. Travis' confident voice conveyed the latest positive tidings about the expansion of Diamond City and the birth of twins to a well respected citizen. 

He scratched his whiskers and turned the singed old page. How long had it been since he'd read a book? Too long. He winced at the memory of the early days, sat on the crapper and wiping his arse with what had turned out to be a signed first edition of a famous pre-war author. It still made him cringe. Too bad they'd blown up the only real toilet paper along with the Institute that hoarded it.

"Want a Sweetroll with this?" came the voice from the kitchen.

"Yeah, please." The detective novel had just reached a crucial twist. Snacking could wait a page or two.

"You going to let me borrow that when you're done?"

"Mm-hm."

The sound of ceramic on wood and the rich scent of aged coffee registered somewhere in his brain. His stomach responded with a gurgle but the heroine had just received the shocking news of her betrayer and the Private Dick had gone missing.

A warm kiss landed on his neck. He absently leaned into it. Another tickled his jaw, making him turn his head slightly, eyes never leaving the page. A hand began a roaming journey from his knee, slowly over his thigh, heading towards utter distraction.

"Darling, I'm trying to read here."

" ' _Darling_ '? That goes straight to the 'Never, no way' list. Just get this image of Irma stuck in my head, lounging there in her stupidly fluffy collar. 'Dahhhling, DAAhhhling!'"

" Stop, stop, point taken. 'Dear', then?"

"If you're writing a letter, sure."

"Sweetheart, sweetie?"

"Hmm, maybe."

He closed the book, defeated by little snuffling kisses along his collar, put the book down and held his lover's face.

"Monkey."

This earned The Eyebrow.

"Monkey? All you ever do when you see one of those mad-eyed, cymbal-crashing freaks is blow its damn head off."

"True…and what are you _really good_ at?"

"Okay, you got me. Oh, wait! I get it! Cle-ver. Alright. You get to call me 'monkey'. Now we just need to find a pet name for you, handsome."

He grinned and drew his beloved into his embrace, drawn to his warm, sweet lips which muttered one word through the tangle of 'taches.

" _Mungo_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guess who they are? Leave a comment and let me know!


	20. A Never Finished Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team 111 - Piper is missing Glenn terribly and feeling a bit lost.

An inside view from the companions of Knight General Glenn Nate Summers.

**PIPER**

I don't get him. I just don't get him. Maybe its the culture shock, after all, over two centuries went by whilst he was caught between one frosty breath and the next. He could have at least left a message. Something. Anything. Damn, Blue, why'd you gotta be so …what's a word that means fluttery, ungrounded. No, not ungrounded…mobile. Itinerate. An itinerate hero.

The mutated fern he gave me is pressed in an old almanac. I think its drying okay but it has been a while since I pressed flowers. Dad used to like hubflowers and carrot flowers. I remember he brought me a bouquet when I learned all my letters. 

Least I got some wine left. Maybe I should wait until he comes back. Oh, don't be dumb as a behemoth, girl. He won't be coming back for you. One quick tour of all the best places to sit and bleed in Boston, using most of his Stimpaks after I gave him the distinct impression I could take care of myself. Well, I did. I'm still here…and I helped him out. Still…

I thought you loved me, Blue. 

Where the hell did you go, anyway? I mean, besides the obvious crater in Cambridge and the string of new settlements popping up. You weren't in Sanctuary when I looked, nor at Hangman's Alley. Dammit, Glenn Summers, mister General of the Minutemen and Knight of the big metal helium-filled dick. Mind you….. he did steal their thunder by using Garvey's gang to take down the boogeyman. I heard a couple of patrolling tincans complaining the other day. Maybe serve 'em right, strolling in here like they own the place. Not like him at all.

Oh, Blue. I miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a fic about my m!sole Survival mode OC, told solely by the companions. I might carry on with this one day but I've been distracted by my Survival f!sole character.


	21. A Holiday Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been over 200 years but the Commonwealth can finally celebrate once more, thanks to MacCready and Salazar Raye.

Salazar Raye stood on a rooftop in Goodneighbor, his hands busy massaging the tight shoulders in front of him. Beside them, a firebarrel crackled as it busily consumed ruined old magazines, picture frames and a splintered baseball bat.

The cooler on the table beside them held a few beers, some crispy squirrel bits and a couple of sweet rolls. A glass bowl filled with suspiciously glossy looking apples, a vase with a full bouquet of mutated fern flowers and an abundance of lit candles filled the rest of the table.

Sal paused in his work to run a hand through his hair. A slightly exasperated sigh came from the recipient. 

"Don't stop. That feels so good. You're finding muscles I never knew I had!" MacCready craned to look behind him. Those warm, green eyes gazed down softly into his blue ones. In a gently Indian tinged accent, Sal replied, "I told you to stretch. There, that'll do for now. Is it almost time?"

Mac checked his watch. " 'Bout five minutes, yet."

"You're sure we'll see them from here?"

"Positive. You never set off a firework as a kid?"

"No. Are you sure you set the mortar right? I know how good you are at making things. _Not_ ," Sal teased, running his hand through his hair again and flicking it out of his eyes with a twist of his head.

"Hey, first, I didn't make it, you know well enough who did - and second, if there's one thing I know how to do really well it's aim.…and for f-fike's sake, trim your bangs, man. 

Salazar pulled a mock-hurt face. "Touch these dark, silken tresses with your blunt scissors? You've got to be kidding, Bobby." He pulled Mac round to face him and lifted his hand up to prove just how smooth his freshly washed black hair was.

MacCready struggled half-heatedly, then allowed his wrist to be directed a little higher than his own head. He let his fingers rake through Sal's hair and impulsively curled his fingers round, pulling the taller man into a slow, gentle kiss. Salazar returned the kiss, pulling off Mac's hat and running his own hands through the thick, brown mop that sprang up. 

Hands began roaming, exploring, undoing…

**BANG**

Both men reached for weapons that weren't in their usual places, dropping into wary crouches. Mac laughed first and pointed up to where shimmering sparks of red, white and blue blossomed and faded into the night sky.

"Hah! Haha! There you go, Sal, fireworks!"

Salazar's eyes grew huge as the next round of celebratory explosions bloomed, green in honour of Diamond City where the main celebrations were taking place. Three weeks ago, he'd found an old stack of flyers for the Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular on the fourth of July, 2077. MacCready had got really excited. His enthusiasm had spread and before long, the Commonwealth was celebrating Independence Day for the first time in over two centuries. 

In the streets below, the people of Goodneighbor gasped and shouted and whooped. Some of the noises were due to chems and booze as usual but most was inkeeping with the holiday. Daisy looked up with watery, dilated pupils, a bittersweet smile on her lipless mouth.

MacCready held up two beers and Salazar took one of them and cracked it open. "To Independence."

"To Independence…together."

A red, white, blue and green final display lit the sky. Muties and scum cowered in their shacks and dens, fearing what this meant but across the Commonwealth, the settlers knew. They'd already won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salazar belongs to @Frenziedgem1. Thanks for letting me borrow him!


	22. One-shot off a Longer Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cryogenic suspension is bound to have side effects, especially when it is still an experimental procedure.
> 
> Content advisory: terminal illness of a fictitious variety.
> 
> This fic belongs to 'Vincent, Redefined' so ideally, you might want to read that too. First, if you want to avoid any spoilers.

"I'm dying, Mac."

Robert Joseph MacCready froze, as if he'd just stepped on a cryomine. His ears had taken the words in perfectly but he was struggling to comprehend. All that escaped his lips was a malformed "Whu..?"

"Body can't cope anymore. It's way past the best before date anyhow." Vin looked at Mac with hollow eyes. MacCready looked back without the filter of denial that he'd held up for the past month.

At first, he'd noticed less heavy junk coming back with them. Once, every typewriter, extinguisher, bucket and desk fan had been strapped to his pack somehow. Now, none of that stuff got picked up. Then it was the rest stops. They used to go miles without a break before the Institute was an Outstitute. Bad joke. Vin always teased him when he cracked a stinker. Lately, even a rotten joke got a short but genuine laugh. 

He could no longer deny the dark circles beneath Vincent's eyes, nor the hollowness of his cheeks. Sure, Mac was nearing forty now and Vin was a good…twenty two decades older. He wasn't supposed to be alive right now. He might be gone any moment. These thoughts built up pressure in MacCready's paralyzed form until they broke upon the shore of disbelief and cut through his shock. He lurched toward his love and dropped to his knees, tears suddenly streaming, still unable to speak but shaking his head, brows pressed together like pleading hands.

Vincent laid a hand upon his cheek. "Had to happen sooner or later, love," he said softly.

Mac's sobs burst from his chest, carrying the words 'no, no, fuck no' to Vin's ears as he lay his head on Vincent's lap. Long minutes passed in silence, as MacCready's sobs ran out of ammunition. Exhausted, he pulled himself to lay alongside Vin on the bed. He felt raw, empty, save for the few words that battled their way forth.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I've had Curie, Cade and Dr. Sun check me over. Doc Forsythe from '81 is due tomorrow but I doubt he'll say different."

"But…but why? Why now? Is…is it what Shaun had?"

Vin stopped rubbing Mac's back and looked him in the eye. "Damn. Never thought of that. Been seeing Valentine behind my back?" Vin joked.

"Never seen _anyone_ behind your back, Vin."

"I know, I know. You know what I meant, monkey."

Mac sighed. A tiny ray of hope glinted in his sights. "If I can do _anything_ , you just…you just let me know. 'Kay?"

Vin offered a tired nod in reply.

"Hey, you rest. I'm gonna get some cram cooked up with a few tatoes an' a splash of Nuka. Does Quantum work like regular cola?"

"Try it."

Mac went off to the kitchen and took three times as long as usual because of checking in on the snoring hero.

* * *

The following day, Dr. J. Forsythe was joined by the now Proctor Curie. Vincent remembered to mention his son's terminal illness, though he was often forgetting things nowadays. Doc Forsythe wanted proof but 'Father's medical notes had been vaporised. However, Curie's face lit up, the way it always did when she was on the verge of a new discovery.

"It is true, is it not, zat you both were cryogenically suspended." This was not in question. "I 'ave a theory. Zis technology…Proctor Quinlan, the dear, showed me some rare Vault-Tec research papers 'aving to do with cryogenics. For years, zey could freeze organic material quickly and efficiently, enough for ze organisms to live for a few seconds after thawing. However, ze main problem was cell damage."

Mac, struggling to wrap his brain around this science stuff, suddenly remembered an issue of Manta Man where the hero had been unfrozen with a special gas. Vin knew the one and sent Mac to fetch it from their library. He handed the tattered issue over. It was missing the cover and thus also the very last few frames but the story was there.

Curie looked decidedly unimpressed, until Vin told her how it was known before the Great War that sometimes, the government had deliberately allowed - even encouraged - certain information to be couched in the form of fiction. "Sneaky propaganda, some called it. Others felt honoured, that they were being let in on big secrets but it was only ever partial truths, designed to catch out the Reds."

Forsythe just shook his head. "Childrens stories. Useless. Can we get back to the matter in ha.."

Curie interrupted. "Gaseous compounds…cryogenic half-life…of course! Monsieur Vincent, you and your son were frozen for different lengths of time, non?"

"Well, yeah, Curie. I was in sixty years longer."

"Also you are a little younger falling ill, oui?"

"I…guess…Shaun was nearer sixty when he became ill, I think."

"Je comprende. Paladin Major MacCready, I shall need you to accompany two scribes to Vault 111 to retrieve samples. There should be residue at least with which I can synthesise a…I hesitate to say 'cure' but I suppose zat word will suffice."

"No, I need to stay here, with my h.."

"Paladin-Major. Consider Proctor Curie's request an order," said Vincent in a convincingly commanding voice. In a wobbly near whisper, he added, "You did say anything you could do to help, love. This is it."

Mac flexed his jaw, biting back a reply which would have just withered into an excuse not to go anyway and nodded.

Vincent slept, more exhausted than he'd let on. 'Bone weary' didn't do the belated cryogenic hangover justice. Whatever chemical had kept his frozen cells alive, they were starved of the substance when the process had been interrupted. He'd been running on fumes for the last six months.

MacCready and the 'science squad' returned quickly but it was three long, emotionally trying days for him as Curie worked tirelessly in her lab. Eventually, she emerged with a crate of drip bags. Vin was hooked up and told that it would take twenty-four hours for the synthesised chemical repair solution to take effect. 

Mac stayed by his side, reading a fairly well preserved copy of This Island Earth. Daisy always saved the best books for her 'two favourite boys'.

* * * 

An orange sunrise lit the clinic room with a warm glow. A slice of light fell across Vin's face, waking him. He shifted and opened his eyes to see MacCready, curled up mostly on the foot of the bed, having abandoned the hard plastic chair. He smiled and wriggled his feet, jiggling that old hat right off his head and waking him up.

"Hey! Cut-it-out" he said grumpily. He woke up a little more then, enough for it all to come rushing back. MacCready leapt up to look at Vin properly. "Vin? How are you feeling? Did it work?"

Vincent grinned and chuckled. He felt solid, again, lighter and more rested than he had in months. Curie was soon by his bedside, checking vitals, muttering exclamations in French and smiling.

"Hey, Mac. Think I'll postpone that whole dying thing," Vin quipped.

"How long for?" Mac asked.

"For as long as I can possibly be with you, dear heart."


	23. Under 18, In Their Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the companions were young once. Even this guy.

"I'm tellin' you, Jimmy, he's up to somethin'." The lad's earnest gaze drilled into his friend's eyes to the point of discomfort.

"Oh, drop it Clyde, he's got nothin' to hide," the boy shrugged and shook his head. Why did he have to be so serious all the time?

" _Rhyming_ insults at me now, knucklehead? Seriously though, I got proof."

"They ain't gonna take a seventeen year old kid seriously, especially after the stunt those teenaged hotrodders pulled up main street. Chief is findin' any excuse to whip us kids into shape."

The serious boy stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill and pulled his head back inside. Not that his folks would notice, they both smoked like chimneys anyway. "Yeah, I know, Jimmy, I know. Try to understand, the cops are just doin' their job."

_The telephone rang._

"Nicholas! Nicholas, its your father. Get down here right now."

"Aww shit. Hope he hasn't noticed his receipts file is missing. You better get on home, Jimbo. I'll leave the window unlocked, come check on me later, alright?"

"Sure thing Nicky. Can't promise on bailin' you out if you get put in the jailhouse, though. I spent all my allowance on those baseball tickets."

"Plural? Hey, you're not taking her out are you?"

"Well, you stood her up!"

"Not intentionally. I…"

" **Nicholas Fabian Valentine!**

"Go! Go!"

One very blonde, lanky kid threaded himself out of the window whilst Nicky legged it downstairs, two steps at a time. He grabbed the receiver from his scowling mother.

"Hello father, sorry, I was…ah…occupied."

"Nicholas."

He swallowed, the adam's apple on his scrawny teenaged neck bobbing up and down. ' _Here it comes_ ', he thought.

"Have you got plans for the weekend, junior? I just came by a pair of tickets for the game."

Nicky visibly relaxed. "Not really. Thanks."

"Tell your mother to leave a pot in the oven for me, I'll be a couple hours late tonight."

"Yes, Dad. 'Bye"

* * * 

His mother popped out to borrow a cup of something. Nicky took the chance to slip into his father's study and search his desk. He searched very thoroughly, feeling underneath and behind drawers. Eventually, the sun sliced into the room, causing a spark on the floor by the desk. He found the key to the safe tacked sloppily underneath one of the legs.

Finally, solid evidence: records and quickly scribbled notes pertaining to the embezzlement that his father was clearly deeply involved in. He'd known for months, catching snatches of conversation, little details that most seventeen year olds would be oblivious to. He ran to gather the rest of the proof and climbed out of his bedroom window before his mother realised he was missing.

* * * 

John Nicholas Valentine was found guilty in a court of law several weeks later. Young Nicky entered the Boston Police Academy and graduated with honours, becoming a top detective.  
The bitter tang of familial betrayal never left him, even when he woke one day to find himself irreversibly altered. 

Nick held up his whiskey and those yellow eyes burned through the amber liquid as the smoke curled around his old, battered fedora. "Here's lookin' at you, kid."


	24. A Challenge Given To You By Someone Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with post-war reality is hard, especially when some guy puts you in charge.... and you happen to be autistic.

**Challenge given by @frenziedgem1 on Tumblr, thankyou!**

I'm in a white room, sitting at the head of a white table. Where am I? Gradually I realise that there are half a dozen or so people staring at me expectantly. My heart starts pounding.

"Director Summers? Should I repeat myself?"

'Director'? Oh. Yes. I'm the Director now, not him. I think I remember what he asked. Weapons or more Synths.

"Neither," I reply.

Every person at the table gasps in shock. I just stare at the table, my face as expressionless as a Gen 2's faceplate. I never was very good at displaying my feelings on the outside. Right now I can't even make out what those shifting emotions are on the inside.

"Well?" says a woman finally. "What _is_ your plan?"

"Stop making Synths altogether."

The noise that erupts from the table batters me around the head like a swat from a catcher's mitt. Their anger hits me in bilious waves and I close my eyes, clenching my jaw hard. 

"Quiet down, everyone," commands one of the older men. "I'm curious to know just what our Director intends to do with this…heirloom."

If there is subtext or spite, I miss it as usual. This lot always seem to communicate their real message just under the surface of what they say. Not my forté.

"Well," I begin, struggling to find the right words, my hand automatically finding and repetitively squeezing the broken baseball in my pocket. "People are scared of them. They're scared of each other sometimes, too, because you've been replacing people." 

Mumbles.

"You're just keeping people at war. The tech is here to be incredibly helpful."

The murmuring around the table includes such words as 'misunderstood', 'treacherous', 'necessary' and 'higher purpose.' I just can't process it all. My heart thumps harder. I start rocking slightly back and forth in my chair and getting _looks_ , just like in high school.

One of the men stands, his face rather flushed. "What would you have us do with Father's legacy? Waste it?"

"Redirect it. The Institute, Redefined." I laugh feebly and probably inappropriately at my little nervouse in-joke. Jokes aren't my forté either.

The muscles in my hand begin to ache from the reflexive squeezing. My head prickles and I start to hear a high-pitched hiss that I know only I can hear.

A woman shouts angrily, something about undoing lifetimes worth of work. I try forming words but I can feel them slipping away. All I can manage is "Shaun was wrong. Your science…evil….wrong."

A clipboard is flung across the room in a very immature display. They are now firing questions at me and I can't…..I just can't. Too much. Too close. My brain has shut down my ability to speak at all, my heart is racing as if I had a Deathclaw up my ass and those intangible emotions coalesce into monsters that I have to run from, _RUN NOW!_. 

My voice manages a wordless shout and I run from the room, letting the elevator carry me up, up, up, up, up I can't face being discombobulated entirely so I run to the red hatch and throw myself into the sewer water, along with the corpses of ferals and mirelurks.

* * * 

"Hey, Blue, Blue come back to Earth, will ya?"

Piper is here, wiping my sodden brow with a rag, stroking my hair in that way she knows I like. I curl up like a pill bug and rock and rock and rock whilst she caresses my hair and rubs circles on my back. She knows me well enough by now to stay quietly by my side until the noise in my head, the images burnt into my inner eye and the sharp, clinical odours fade from my mind.

When at last I am still, I hold her and she holds me right back.

"They're gone, Glenny. The Institute are gone. The rest of us are still here. Safe. You're safe. You saved us all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an autistic woman myself (Aspergers). Us girls have a different experience than guys on the spectrum, so I hope I've portrayed Glenn well.


	25. Pre-Relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent is young. He was out with his cousin a few weeks back and they bumped heads picking up a young lady's purse. He's still thinking about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read the prequel chapter that inspired this little ficlet here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9313019/chapters/21107189

"Hey Pop."

"Son. What time do you call this, then?" the ginger flat-topped ex-soldier asked.

"I don't know. Whatever time the clock calls it," Vincent replied. "Aren't I old enough not to have to worry about that stuff anymore?"

"Not when you're still living under my roof. Plus, you woke me up."

"Sorry Poppa. I'm making hot chocolate, want one."

"You twisted my arm. Oh but we ran outta marshmallows because they've withdrawn ration tokens for them."

"What? That's the last thing they need to cut."

"Yeah, well, go figure. So where'd you go tonight?"

"Bob's place. The one that does that Rocketfuel cocktail."

"Oh, that stuff. Your cousin warned me about that."

"He can't hold his liquor, poor Vonny."

"And you seem to be holding it a little too well. What's on your mind, son?"

"Heh. I've been nursing drinks all night. Can't stop thinking about that doll who dropped her purse."

"Oh yeah, another thing Vaughn told me. Because he, unlike my actual son, was here for dinner."

"He's home?"

"Yeah, med school term break. I thought you knew?"

"I…I did. Just been a bit distracted."

"That bump on your head didn't do you any favors, did it Vinny? Vaughn's bruise is still showin' too. Coupla hardheads, you two."

"Yeah. Well. I might have been looking for her."

"Oh really, son?"

"Yeah. I found out her name, too: Nora. Nooooraaaaa."

"Okidokey, there you go. Rocketfuel just fired up your inebriation booster."

"Whhh…that stuff has…a delay. Weird."

"Only when you mix it with certain chems, boy. What in the name of Buttercup's ballbearings did you put in your 'hot chocolate', boy?"

"Dosss it maddder?"

"It fucking does if you want to keep sleeping under my roof. You know the rules. What. Is. It."

"Juss Med-X. Neededed."

"Bad mixer, son. Come on, a cup of water and off to bed. You're gonna feel like one of Jangles' monkey businesses in the morning."

"Norrrra."

"Yes, yes. Listen, if fate wills it…. I only hope you have better luck than me."


	26. A Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent Nathaniel Hudson is a young Private in the US Army in 2066. He's currently enjoying a break from training with a friend.

Downtime, precious downtime. The young auburn-haired Private pulled a writing set from his bag and set it on the table. Next to him, her hair in a messy dark bun, another recruit plonked herself down and cracked open a heavy looking book.

Vincent 'Nate' Hudson glanced over at Nora Freis. "That's some heavy reading you got there. This is supposed to be our chance to relax."

"I have plans, once I've paid my dues, "she said, not looking up. 

Nate craned his neck to study the title at the top of the page, thoughtfully stroking his horseshoe moustache. "Lawyer, huh? Reckon you'd make one helluva good one, Freis. Be a shame to waste those sniper skills, though."

"Who says they'll be wasted, Hudson? I'll do my mandatory tour just like every one of these Joes, then I'm putting myself through law school. 'Words will be my ammunition…"

"…and justice, my sight'. Yeah, I read that issue of _The Silver Shroud_ ," Nate finished. He reached a hand into his pack once more and pulled out a comic still in its cellophane wrapper. "Try this one, Freis. 'Grognak the Barbarian', issue One." 

Nora quickly whipped a bookmark into her heavy tome and took the brand new comic with an eager expression. "Where'd you get this?"

Nate leaned back in a leisurely, cocky fashion. "I have my sources," he teased.

"It was your cousin, wasn't it. The med student?" Nora had already begun delicately drawing it forth from its plastic prison.

"Yeah. It was Vonny."

"Is that who you're writing to now, Hudson?" Nora asked, engrossed in absorbing every detail of the front cover. "Whew," she whistled. "I'd be _his_ sidekick!" she exclaimed in a low voice.

"Vonny doesn't need a side..ow! Freis! Anyway, no, I'm writing to my Pop." Nate brandished an opened letter in a cream envelope. "He's just got a new job as a Postman. Still living in our old apartment, trying to chat up some doll called Daisy who works at the library across the way."

"So…" Nora replied, obviously trying to read and hold a conversation at the same time, "…he's going to be delivering that to himself, then?"

Nate chuckled. He liked Freis, she was one of the good ones. Unlike the fat-necked guy who had the cheek to have the same first name. Well, _Vinnie_ could go suck a Fatman, for all he cared. He was getting used to his army buds calling by his middle name, even if it was his mom who'd chosen it.

As if she'd been evesdropping his thoughts, Freis piped up. "So, your Mom passed, then?"

"Hmph. She passed as a mom until I was ten then ran away with her boss. Bitch."

"Oh, sorry. That's awful."

"So how about your parents, Freis?" asked Nate whilst doodling a cartoon in his letter. It looked like some guy eating a mini-nuke.

Nora looked up at him briefly. "I'll spare you that tale for now, Hudson. Hey, this 'Grognak' is the bomb! Let me know if your lovely cousin sends you another."

"Sure thing, Freis."

An electronic bell rang in the corner of the common room. Nate sighed. "Over too soon, as usual."

Nora nodded as she handed the still-pristine comic back to her friend. "I swear these breaks are getting shorter. Back to it, then."

"Shoot straight, soldier," Nate replied.

"Will do. And watch out for that third post on the assault course. It's out for _mud_ ," Nora joked.

Nate was still laughing when the drill Sergeant strode into the hall and spotted him. "What's so amusing, Hudson? Come here. Come _here_. Nate saluted and did as he was told. He didn't mind a little tongue-lashing. It was a small price to pay for having found such a good friend in such a tough place. Deep down, he was fervently hoping that Nora Freis survived her mandatory tour of duty and got that law degree. She was one of the good ones. One of the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nora Freis belongs to @mustinvestigate
> 
> You can read her adventures here: http://archiveofourown.org/series/391834


	27. Substance Use, Alcohol, Chems etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously published as 'The Sight for Sore Eyes'
> 
> The consequences of chem use and freedom of choice.

The old woman looked up at him with pleading eyes. This was a risky choice and he wouldn't be popular for it but he respected her right to choose. She knew the risks and he wasn't doing it for an obtuse peek at the future, it was just for her. He handed over the triple-barrelled syringe and Mama Murphy expertly found a vein and pushed the poison in.

 She drew a deep, quivering breath. "The sight, it wants you to find your own path," she exclaimed, then so quietly Vincent only just caught it, she whispered, "Let me go, kid, because they can't."

   With a loud exclamation, Mama Murphy clutched at her chest and toppled off her chair. Vincent couldn't move. Footsteps behind him, surrounding him. Marcy, Jun and Sturges, checking for breath and finding none. Marcy's angry disbelief, Jun's despair, Sturges' shock, all these emotions battered Vincent like the merciless tides at Far Harbor. When Vin finally managed to speak, he could only mutter "Sturges..?" "I...I need a minute," the mechanic replied.

Cait ran to the door. She'd come to Sanctuary with a routine Minuteman patrol, having got bored of being cooped up at the castle. She had desperately wanted to check how Vincent was recovering after his rehab ordeal, even after her heartfelt flirting had been rejected. "Let's keep this professional," he'd said. Fine. He could have it his way but it didn't change how she felt. She couldn't exactly claim he was her only friend anymore though, not after joining the Minutemen. Evenings spent teaching them drinking games, getting trained in the use of multiple weapon types by Ronnie Shaw (who had become an unlikely mother figure to Cait) and proving to be a highly effective member of the volunteer militia had made her quite popular. So here she was, making sure Vincent was safe whilst he took some time off. She'd heard Marcy kick off all the way from the Tree. "What's goin' on here? What the fuck happened?."

Vincent didn't answer her questions but instead ordered, "Follow me." He took Cait across the river to Red Rocket, straight to the back room and shut the door.

"I need to get Preston, now. Mama Murphy is dead." Dogmeat barked in the distance. "I…helped her."

Cait just stared incredulously for a moment then sputtered, "You did what now? You soddin' _helped_ her?" Vin was rummaging around behind a hanging tool rack. "Got it." He pulled out a scrumpled, singed wad of folded paper, opened it, pulled one out and refolded the rest. "Give these to Sturges and the Longs. I'll be back soon as I can."

Cait squared up to the taller, heavier Minuteman. "What. The fuck. Just happened?"

Vincent addressed Cait's feet, his voice low. "Mama Murphy asked me for chems. She gave me her reasons. I gave her what she needed." He glanced up. At Cait's sour expression, he added, "Don't give me any shit for this, Caitlyn. I made a hard choice. I'm going now. Back soon as I can." 

"I don't fuckin' believe this! How could you? After what we've _both_ been through, are you insane, man? Well, don't expect me to welcome you home, you freakin' hypocrite." Cait spat.

Vincent looked over his shoulder. Quietly, he added, "I said 'No Shit.' Now follow orders and deliver those."

Cait saluted with a rude gesture she made sure Vin didn't see and stormed off.

***

Vincent arrived at the Castle just as the first star appeared in the sky. He saw the Minuteman..well, Minutewoman first. "Where's the Paladin-Colonel?" "Sir! He's with the Barber, Sir." Vincent nodded curtly and entered the passageway. He found Paladin-Colonel Garvey half-shorn and with one look at Vin's face, Preston said "We'll finish later, " jammed his hat back on his head and left the barber poised in silent, open-handed protest.

Vincent ordered his second-in-command to follow him and it was only when they'd left the castle grounds far behind that Preston forced Vin to stop and tell him what the hell was going on.

      Vincent looked around and spotted a door whose boards had mostly been ripped away. He prised off the last, readied his weapon and hit the torch on his Pip-boy. One, reedlike withered ghoul started to drag itself up from behind the shop counter but was soon put down. Dust settled. No other viable entrances, good. Privacy.

The Sentinel-General stood up straight and announced, "Colonel, I am sorry to inform you that Mama Murphy passed away today, of her own volition." 

 "What?" Preston's eyes grew wide, his eyebrows cresting at the centre."H..how did she die?" His face suddenly melted from shock and grief into suspicion tinged anger. "Tell me Vincent. Tell me it wasn't chems. Please."

Vin sighed. "I can't do that, Preston."

Garvey lost his cool and shouted "You gave your word! You promised! How dare you break my trust like that?" He was clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles paled. 

  "This wasn't about you and I, Preston," Vincent quietly replied. He was braced to take a punch but it never came.  He slowly reached into his chestplate pocket and pulled out the creased, scorched paper and handed it over. "Her last words to you."

 Preston's expression sank into melancholy. He slowly opened the single page. It was dated the day before the Quincy massacre and read:

_'You listened and I followed you. Listen again now but don't follow me. I chose my final path. My right. My way. Don't shoot the messenger, dear Preston. He listened, he respected my choice though hard for him to hear. Too many years under my belt, seen too much. One last fight then I gotta surrender. My choice. My damn choice. Be safe, Angel.'_

Preston fell to his knees and wept quietly, until Vincent heard something shift outside and placing a hand on his shoulder, brought the seasoned Minuteman back to the present danger.

Through a pack of ghouls they tore, laser-rifle punching the air, Gauss slicing through it. They travelled in darkness and silence, save for the cries of their weapons here and there.

  ***

Dawn broke over Sanctuary. The green velvet chair sat devoid of purpose. Sturges had removed Mama's remains to a sheltered corner and wrapped her in tattered cloths, ready for burial.

The two men walked over the bridge. From her seat at the lookout perch, Cait saw them coming first and shot up, ran down the unstable scaffold stairs and rushed up to Vincent. She pushed Vin hard on one shoulder, not caring that this was inappropriate behaviour for one outranked.

" 'Bout time you showed up. How could you? How the hell could you! After what you've been through. How could you do that to an old lady, General? Are you using again? Is that it?" 

Preston stepped between them. "Stand down and cool off, Cait. You're making a scene. Inside, now." Preston led Cait and Vin into the 'shop house, where Marcy was consoling a crying Jun and Sturges sat statue-like in the corner.

 "Take a seat," Preston urged. Marcy jumped up and pounded on Vincent's armoured chest before he could comply. "How could you? How could you! Fucking junkie bastard _murderer_!" she screamed. "No, Preston, I don't care who I'm talking to. He's a _scumbag_." Cait bit her lip but nodded. 

To everyone's surprise, it was Jun who broke the tension. He stood and very gently took Marcy's shoulder, spun her around in his embrace and said "No, love. It's not Vincent's fault. You read Mama's letter. She was hurtin', we all knew." Sturges stood and strode out of the room, returning a moment later with a shovel which he threw at Vin. "Least you can do." he growled. "I'll show ya where." Cait stormed off, back to her post.

Vincent dug the grave, right next to Nora's. Stripped to the waist, he attacked the soil with vigour, letting his despair and grief open a wound in the earth large enough for the remains of the group elder.

When the grave was dug, Preston, Sturges, Marcy and Jun lowered her gently in. Vincent filled the hole and placed concrete slabs across it with a concrete headstone. Sturges brought the green chair and placed it on the grave, Jun brought a vase of flowers and Preston lit a candle. Marcy, curled up on the ground, just wept.

The group sat together and at Preston's suggestion, read the notes that Mama had left. He began. Next, Jun opened the joint letter to him and Marcy: _"Long awaited will arrive after I'm gone. In safety, a baby is born for you to care for as your own. Marcy, when you open to grief; Jun, when you let anger in, she will come. Don't let my passing weigh you down. It's been a long time coming. You still have good lives to live. It was my choice, dear ones. My damn choice."_

Sturges opened his. _"You can't fix what doesn't want to be fixed, kid. Sometimes its OK to let things be broken or different than you want them to be. Some secrets only come out when you're dead. It'll still all turn out right in the end, you'll see."_

Preston reached inside his waistcoat and gave a small envelope to Vincent. "Mama Murphy gave me this before I'd even met you. She said I'd know who to give it to at her grave. 'The Sight'...gives me the shivers sometimes, it really does."

Vin accepted and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a small slip of paper that simply read, _"You saved them all and freed me. Thanks, champ. Now go on and enjoy your life."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a personal choice in my life to never smoke or do recreational drugs which, for me is a choice to avoid harm to myself and others.  
> Knowing the risks, you get to choose. Please do so wisely, I wish you well.


	28. A Character Doing Your Real Life Job

The alarm beeped its way into her awareness. Piper stretched her aching muscles and forced herself to sit up. She shambled downstairs to make coffee and feed the office cat. She'd just made it back up to snuggle in the still-warm bed with her morning pick-me-up when a little voice called "Piper, I need you!"

It wasn't anything urgent, it never was but she had a responsibility to this child above everything else. They dressed and ate breakfast together, then Piper took her to the schoolhouse.

Back at home, she defeated some laundry, got overwhelmed by washing up the dishes and then sat down to start crafting, when all she really wanted to do was write. The inspiration well was dry today and the the teeny azure beads refused to stay in the grip of her pliers.

"Dammit, blues!" The faint sound of tiny bits of glass pinging around on the wooden floor had Piper down on her hands and knees. Eventually, she found most of them and persuaded them into place over the next hour, with much concentration and more caffeine.

She photographed the finished item to send to the trader and collapsed on the sofa. The day was only half-way through but it was time for a necessary break before fetching the kiddo. She could fit some writing in that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that was short and uninspiring! I barely work due to variable, inconsiderate health issues. I run a couple of little online shops and rent a shelf in a craft shop.


	29. Graphic Depictions of Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Advisory: mention of self mutilation.
> 
> Overboss Lore and Gage have a story and a proposition for The Pack. The Boss usually favours the Operators but keeps stringing Mason along and this time, she promises a hunt like no other.

Lore strode through the gates, past the cages rammed with chattering beasts and muted slaves. She and Gage both lugged bulging sacks on their backs. One of Porter Gage's bags was wriggling.

Mason sat up on his throne, preening his orange moustache and beating on his bare chest in time to the shouts of the arena crowd. The Overboss could tell he was bored and a half-wild dog with ennui might just bite its owner's hand off.

"Mason, how's my favorite Alpha?" Lore asked with a dangerous smile.

"Antsy. Keeping my pack on a short leash, aren't you, Overboss?"

"Driving them wild for the hunt, Puppy. Look, we bring gifts. Got an empty cage?" Lore asked, as Gage held out the wriggler.

Mason whistled and an antlered lackey loped up. He grabbed the sack by its neck and thrust it into a cage, closing the door and reaching through the bars to untie the ropes.

It leapt out at once, grey-green with pink mouth agape. The Pack members who were nearest stopped and stared. One called out "Froggy!" and the others started whooping.

"Been a long ways away to catch one of them, ain't ya?" Mason said, his eyes as wide as a predator on the trail.

"We have more'n that, too," Gage added and emptied five rad chickens into a box. A female pack member wearing a fox-like mask slinked over to look.

Lore and Gage emptied the last unmoving sacks at Mason's feet.

"Trophies. Get the scent and you could catch your very own. There are some Disciples gone to ground there, hiding with Trappers. I want _them trapped_.

Mason's ears pricked up at the thought of a hunt, even if it was far beyond his territory. Gage cleared his throat.

"Hmmhmm. It ain't no picnic, y'understand? Once you get north-east across the mountains, through Deathclaw country, there ain't no way but by boat."

Mason looked less keen. Overboss Lore just settled back languidly on the radstag hoofed chair now reserved for her near Mason's throne.

"We got a route all tracked out but you gotta be ready. Creatures in that mist ain't like what we know here. That there Gulper, she's a baby. Her colony hid right up in the trees. The Overboss here saw 'em before I did. Damn things still jumped us and fuck can they move!"

Several Pack members had flopped down, on chairs, on crates, on the floor, on each other, to listen to Gage's latest tale.

"So there I was about to punch a Gulper's throat from the inside when she grabs the thing's leg with her power armored fist, swings it round her head, lobs it an' and knocks two more down from the trees close by. I get a coupla shotgun shells in one an' she shoots the one she threw right in the eye before it lands. It goes down an…oh man, it fell on a rock an split right open. Them guts stink, I'm tellin' ya. So then this extinguisher falls out, along with a fuckin' turret body an a clackytyper thing. So, right, she shoots the crap an' the junk explodes. Bits o' gulper everywhere but that ain't all."

The arena fight had finished and that small crowd had now joined the rest at Mason and the Overboss' feet.

"So further up the trail we find what's left of one of the bladey bunch. Well, most of him anyways. The Boss here runs out of fusion-juice so we drag feet over to this hideout and leave the tincan there. We're runnin' up a ridge just before dawn. Fog's so thick you can't see the end o' your barrel in front of ya face. The damn mask I'm wearin' against rads means I can't see shit so I hear it before I see it. That clickin' shuffle that sends a chill right up ya balls - or ya cunt, or whatever's down there, sorry bitches - anyway the next thing, I feel this, what I think is a blade, slicin' across my shoulder, not too deep thanks to the old scaffolding but still, enough to bleed pretty bad. Overboss Lore here shouts "Fogcrawler!" an heck, I ain't never seen one before so I turn round to see this bug-ugly giant insect thing sizin' me up. We pour ammo into it but the monster's got a tough shell, so the Boss darts round the back, points her missile launcher up its goddam ass an fires off. Thing was barely punctured but it did flip it on its back, so she leapt up and peppered it while I kept the thing from rollin' over by hittin' it with ol' Shiny here. Cracked it like a 'lurk and scooped out the meat. Not bad eatin'."

Lore was listening, rapt. Gage wasn't exaggerating a single bit, thank goodness. She wouldn't want to show any weakness in front of the Pack, even though they knew well that she was their Master.

"Well then," Gage continued, "We trekked for half a day shootin' nothin' but wolves an' men 'til we came to this 'hoe tell'. Boss spotted a bloody trail leadin' in so we followed it and found this masked knife-jockey dyin' a slow death, legs all crushed up like. Boss wastes a Stimpak on him to loosen his tongue an she takes his faceplate off. Well suck a Mirelurk King's balls if he ain't truly hideous underneath. Sick fucker'd cut his own ears an' nose right off, one of his eyelids was gone, too an his tongue had a split down it like a Deathclaw's licker. Seriously _Fucked Up Shit_. Disciples marks of honor, he'd said. He also said the cunts had left him behind and not even done him the honor of eatin' his sorry ass so he told us where they were holed up. Got some new converts from the local crazies, too. Almost as many as there used to be."

Lore interlaced her fingers and stretched her palms out in leisurely fashion. "So I need my best hunters tracking them down and wiping them out once and for all."

Mason eyed her steadily. "What's in it for The Pack, Boss? Not gonna be treadin' on any delicate Operator toes, are we?"

"If your beautiful beasts make it back, I'll find you a new territory and no, they won't be going on the outing."

Mason stood up and howled. "The Hunt is on!"

Porter Gage swaggered out of the gate next to Overboss Lore. "Can you imagine The Pack crammed on that boat? They'll be sick as dogs," he chuckled. 

"You can laugh, Puker Gage," teased Lore. He got all quietly offended at that but forgave her later when she improved his power fist so that it could split carapace and he adored it. Well, he adored her but he'd risk going to the john over a bloodbug's nest before he ever admitted that. To put his unrequited lust into words at this point would just be an unnecesarily graphic depiction of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing raiders is so much fun but my fingers are blue from the language! I hardly swear in real life. I hope it doesn't show ;)


	30. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Robert Joseph MacCready had been in the Sole Survivor's place?

The bald bastard had shot Lucy and kidnapped Duncan. Robert slipped and landed on his rear as he stepped off the lift. On the surface, the air smelled strange, almost electrical like a popped fuse. He sat there, stunned, trying to rub the feeling back into his fingertips, trying to correlate his memories with the blasted vista in front of him. He came to his senses a little more after a moment, absently patting where pockets were usually to be found. Pockets that usually held keys, wallet, photographs and two bullets. At least he had his 'lucky fifties' up his sleeve, two point five-oh bullets that Lucy had had engraved with their names. A bitter joke, now that a different calibre had stolen her life away. Still, he'd hunted through the lockers until he'd found their old things, somehow motheaten and faded. 

His journey had reunited him with Codsworth, given him a breakneck speed history lesson about the centuries that he had slept through and put armour on his back and a gun in his hands again. He'd thought his army days were behind him, no more Corporal MacCready, decorated hero for putting exactly one bullet in exactly the right place, at exactly the right time. Sure, he was a good sniper but he'd rather be aiming darts at a board and drinking beers with his buddies. He'd rather be the popular comic book writer that he'd started to become, rather than the General of the Minutemen.

He found that a city had sprung up in the baseball stadium where he'd first kissed Lucy on their second date. He'd sneered at the irony over having to go searching for the lost detective as he slurped his second bowl of noodles and drank almost flat cola. He'd teared up when their song came on the radio. Two centuries had passed and they were still playing it, amazing.

Somehow, he'd ended up in Goodneighbor. Trust Robert J. MacCready to find the sleaziest bar in town. Not that there were many choices these days.

Someone assumed he was looking for a guy called 'Vin Hudson' and pointed to the back room. Robert made sure to buy a whole bottle of whiskey before wandering into the V.I.P. area. He heard two rough sounding men trying to threaten a third. Robert sat down just close enough to evesdrop but far enough away to show that he wasn't involved. The men postured and traded hooded threats until the two soldier types hustled out of the place wearing frowns.

The remaining man looked over at Robert. He was broad shouldered and taller by four or five inches, a little older, too. He wore a battered old militia hat with a cigar tucked in the band. Robert thought he looked like some kind of biker cowboy with that carefully trimmed prospector moustache, brown leather jacket and boots. He stared at Robert whilst popping something into his mouth and downing it with bourbon. 

Robert almost turned and walked out of the room until the guy spoke. He was looking for work, the Commonwealth was more dangerous than Anchorage had been, so an extra gun for the price of a few bottlecaps seemed like a no-brainer.

The guy turned out to be a good shot. He was a lot stronger than Robert and seemed to know his way around. He was also pretty handy when things needed fixing up. He was stoic and quiet most of the time, refused Robert's cigarettes in favour of cigars, even stubs of cigars picked out of skeletal hands.

After the tenth time of being addressed as 'Hudson', he asked to just be called 'Vin'. In return, Vin chose to add a little variety to his usual 'Boss' by trying out various versions of his name: Rob, Bob, Robby, Bobby Jo. He even called him 'Robber' once, after Robert discreetly lifted some necessary item from behind its owner's back. The fact that Vin had stumbled on the nickname he'd owned as a wayward teen almost showed on his face. Vin kept this up, using a different version of Robert Joseph every time until Robert shook his head and said for him to call him by his old army nickname of 'Mac'. 

So there they were, Mac and Vin, trailing across the Commonwealth together. As it turned out, they were on a mission to save not one but two boys. When Robert found out that Vin had a son also and that his boy was sick, they couldn't help but bond. He found that this big musclebound Commonwealth cowboy was fast becoming his closest friend and ally. Robert helped him cut back on the self-prescribed punishment of chems and booze and in return, Vin kept him alive and sane.

Robert found his son and dealt with the consequences. Vin got the cure back to his son Shaun who was miles away near D.C. No, not Diamond City, the old D.C. Between them and a few friends, they made the Commonwealth a better place.

Mac and Vin. In the end, each made the other a better man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally self-indulgent, using my favourite oc guy Vincent 'Nate' Hudson as the companion. I could just imagine that the issue of Grognak you see on the kitchen worktop in the pre-war section of the game as having been an author's preview copy. Just imagine that, *MacCready wrote Grognak*!
> 
> Comments are always greatly appreciated so if you've read this far, drop me a line :)


	31. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of wastelanders, no Sole Survivor, no companions, gather at the recently cleared Covenant settlement.  
> The four of us roleplayed this out over this past month: A Gift to the Fandom. Enjoy.

Covenant. Even the name still gave Skyler the shivers. She wondered if Preston Garvey or the General would rename it. 'Stay here,' Garvey had said, 'turn on the beacon and welcome any settlers.'  


'Keep an eye on 'em, too,' the General had said. So here she was, long dark hair whipping round her face as she settled in her sniper's nest, waiting for the first likely resident to show up.  


Finch had her brown hair tucked under the worn out fedora and her small and fragile figure was wrapped in clothes far too large. The flannel shirt was ripped on one side, and the jeans had holes in it as well. From some traders at Bunker Hill she heard about the new settlement. Finch had been on the move for a long while now and she couldn't wait to settle down somewhere. In the distance she could see a tower and she wondered if someone was watching her already. She slung her hunting rifle from her back and was ready to shoot, just in case this was a trap.  


'Who is this, then?' Skyler adjusted her position and pulled her errant hair back into its rubber band so she could get a better look at the slight figure approaching the gate.  


As Finch came to the big front gate she looked around. 'No one in sight...' she thought and knocked.  


Skyler slung her rifle and legged it down the stairs. She skidded to a halt by the gate. Well, the turrets hadn't been set off, must've registered a friendly....but turrets could be fooled.  


'Who goes there? State your allegiances.'  


'I'm...' Finch cleared her throat because her voice was shaking. What if it is a trap? 'My name is Finch. I heard about this settlement in Bunker Hill. Ca- can I come in?' She hated how she stuttered when she was nervous. Stupid nerves.  


'That depends. You may have got into Bunker Hill but I still need to know: who do you support?'  


Skyler wondered if the newcomer had noticed the Lightning, Rifle and Triple Star stencil on the wall outside.  


'Sup- support?' Finch didn't know what the right answer was. But she heard about the Minutemen being reunited again at the Castle. It was worth a shot. 'The Minutemen?' That didn't come out convincing, but Finch couldn't take it back now. 'Listen, I've been on my own for quite a while now... I just want to have a home again.' Maybe it was easier to turn around and go back to Bunker Hill. She was standing still and expected a bullet to strike her, it made her shake like a twig in a rad storm.  


The Minuteman Sniper, Skyler Woods, pulled back the bolt with a clang. She greeted the newcomer with her red lipstick and dazzling smile. 'Then, welcome home, Wastelander.'  


Off in a distant and conveniently unnamed location, Vic flicked through the radio's dial to find something not-awful to listen to. There was nothing. Nothing, that is, but a new recorded message telling that the gates of Covenant had been thrown open.  


'Huh. That's not too far off the route down to Bunker Hill. Maybe I'll drop by.'  


Adoni stared up at the sky watching the clouds lazily float across it, her father's old radio played in the background, Freedom Radio, her father was always a big a fan of the Minutemen. Her eyes closed at the memory of her father, she missed him, despite his passing a month prior. The song ended and the announcer came on,  


"This is Freedom Radio announcement: All those tuned and listening, The Minutemen have just opened the gates to a new settlement! Covenant is now open to settlers."  


A few more announcements were mentioned, but Adoni didn't listen. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it 'New Settlement huh? Tch' But the thought of checking it out never left her. 'Alright, fine…' she took the final puff of her cigarette and put it out in the dirt next to her. Leaving the discarded cigarette she slung her old duffelbag onto her shoulder and started off towards Covenant.  


Finch stepped inside the settlement's walls and looked around. It all looked so nice and clean.  


'Wow. This place is amazing. Uh, what do you want me to do? Can I help with something?' The small woman put her weapon back to the holster on her back. With a sigh of relief she looked around some more and it was visible that she felt more comfortable with this situation. This could be a home, a real home.  


Skyler appraised the newcomer. 'Cute. Healthy looking, harmless looking too but in that keep-an-eye-on-her way, ' she thought.  


'Sure. If you like eating, grab a hoe over by the greenhouse and see what you can do. I just put a brahmin hotpot on the campfire, give it an hour and we can both have a break.'  


She handed the newcomer a can of purified. 'I'm Skyler, Minutegal hotshot and right now, in charge o' this ghost town. Hey, ah... Got any lipgloss? I can trade a few bits 'n' bobs.'  


'It's really nice to meet you Skyler. But I'm afraid I don't have cosmetics on me.' Finch laughed and her brown eyes lit up. 'Just some old pre war electronic parts. I will take care of the plants... Just yell if you need me.'  


'Fine. I'll be in the tower 'til the grub's up. Nice to meet you, too, whatever your name is....?'  


'Oh, it's Finch. I'm sure you didn't hear me behind the gate earlier.' She said. And her voice really wasn't the strongest and loudest, she knew that. Her hands fumble with the ripped hem of her shirt, she never knew why she got nervous from one second to another. 'I'll go and work now...' she added and quickly went over to the greenhouse to escape the situation.  


A while later, Skyler handed her a bowl of something that smelled good and she tucked right in.  


'Well, Finch, when you stop short of scraping a hole in the bottom of that bowl, go claim a bunk. Big yeller one's mine, though.'  


Finch turned around and nodded before she actually turned back to her stew and to the gardening business.  


Adoni was.standing across the water watching the exchange through her binoculars, to her the exchange looked a bit awkward, so she chuckled to herself, before putting her binoculars away and turning back to the road that lead up to Covenant. Once she reached the gates she knocked loudly. 'Hello, I heard the Radio Freedom announcement,' she called out.  


'Ooh, goody, another housemate. Shit did I say that out loud? Gotta stop talking to yourself, Skyler...' She ran to the gate to ask the questions that Preston had told her to say: 'Who goes there? State your allegiances!' Way more old fashioned than the Safe Test but saner, too.  


'I'm Adoni Amara, my allegiance lies with myself and The Minutemen.'  


'Oh shit, dumbass. Best not piss this chick off,' Skyler thought to herself as she rushed down to the gate. 'Welcome to Covenant, Colonel Amara. Preston didn't tell me you'd be coming. Corporal Skyler Woods, Sniper, at your service.  


Adoni chuckled again, before replying, 'Good afternoon Corporal, Preston actually doesn't know I was going to stop by. And please, Adoni, if you will darling.'  


Finch heard voices and looked around the corner of the greenhouse just to see Skyler and another woman talk. The young woman wasn't sure if she was safe so she quickly backed into the relative safety of her task.  


'If we're at ease, then, just call me Skyler. That little mouse over there is Finch. So, I guess I'm relinquishing command here. Colonel Garvey just told me to hold the fort and welcome friendlies. What are your orders, Adoni?'  


Adoni thought a moment, honestly she wasn't trying to take over anything, she was merely there to observe, on her own time. Then she smiled and looked at her fellow Minuteman and with a brief wave to the other settler she replied to the Corporal, 'Skyler, go ahead and keep doing what your doing, I'm merely here to observe and help out if need be. So is there anything I can do to help out?'  


'Well, there's a couple turrets that need fixing or upgrading and for fuck's sake, we need to rename this place. It has a bad rep now and I think its putting people off.' Skyler fussed with a stray hair that had worked its way free of her stars and stripes bandana. 'Say, you don't happen to have any lip gloss for trade, do you?'  


'Fixing up the turrets won't be a problem, renaming the place I think we should wait for other settlers then cast a vote, as for your last question…' Adoni paused and swung her dufflebag down from her shoulder and searched the smaller pockets for the cosmetics she found while scavenging. When she found her little lipstick bag she pulled it out and unzipped it. "Let's see, I have purple lipsticks and yes I have lip gloss. Do you have a preferred color?'  


'Do you have a Deep Cherry in there? Something reddish. What can I trade you for?'  


She took a pouch off her hip and opened it up to show her tradeables. A pack of gum, Squirrel on a stick wrapped in tinfoil, a jar of grease, a pair of good hairdresser's scissors. 'Or caps. Name the figure.'  


Adoni looked through her little bag again and pulled out 4 deep red lip gloss containers. 'Let's say 40 caps for all of them? Is that reasonable?' She asked and smiled at Skyler's face lit up.  


'You've just made my day, chick. Here, I'll throw in the gum, too.'The caps tinkled into Adoni's cupped hands. Skyler scooped up her cosmetic treasure and skipped back to her post, waiting until she was perched up high to use the reflective glass scope as a mirror. Beautified, she got back to her duty, scanning the horizon for more newcomers.  


Adoni shook her head as an amused smile crossed her lips. She then went to properly greet the other settler. She walked I to the green house and leaned on the wall next to the open door "Good afternoon dear, I'm Adoni."  


The woman who was humming while she did her gardening work turned around in a hurry, startled and with a shaking voice she said: "He-hello. I'm just taking c-care of the tatoes."  


Finch felt how her chest clenched together. Why did she think this place with all the strangers would be a good idea? Her small hands were holding on tightly to the hoe.  


Adoni noticed the nervousness and tried to be more accommodating to the poor woman "Sorry I didn't mean to disturb you... You're doing a great job." Adoni said in a softer voice than she used before. Finch shook her head."I'm OK, just... jumpy. M y-my name is Finch, by the way." Even though her hand was shaking she offered it for a handshake. "Nice to meet you."  


Adoni took the out stretched hand as softly a s possible and shook it "Pleasure's all mine friend. If you need anything just let me know"  


"Yes, yes... thank you." Finch turned back to her work. She was harvesting the first tatoes and some corn, maybe she could make something tomorrow, to show some good will and say thank you again.  


* * *  


Vic looked up, eyes narrowed against the brightness of the sky. There it was. Covenant. Cerberus ran ahead, stopping in the middle of the road and lifting her nose to scent the air. She let out a couple of short barks before turning around and running back to Vic's side.Stay alert, then, but there was no need to run for cover. Not yet, anyway. Vic patted Minos on the side of the neck before giving a gentle pull on the lead rope, and heading up to the gate.  


"Who goes there? State your allegiances," Skyler was already getting sick of the old-fashioned phrase but orders were orders. She tutted at the thought of Preston and his musty history books.  


Vic stared up at the guard for a moment, before gesticulating at the brahmin with a thumb. "Trader."  


"We're looking for a provisioner. State your allegiances and I might open the gate."  


"I'm not looking for a job, I've got one already. Heard your radio transmission, thought I'd drop by. I've got first aid. Some food. Books. Got some ammo too but not much. I can always move on if you're not interested."  


Adoni, upon hearing the voices, came out of the greenhouse and walked over to the other two "Traders are always a welcome sight." She said, in case of future visits.  


With a basket full of vegetables Finch stepped out the greenhouse too. 'Oh no, another stranger...' she thought to herself and she was more than undecided if she should even stay here or not.  


Vic pulled out a packet of cigarettes and leaned back against Minos' shoulder."Yeah. Looks that way. Listen, I could do with some water for these two but I'm sure they can survive 'til Bunker Hill. Maybe I'll have something more interesting for you on the way back up. Be a few days though."  


Finch lurked some more around the corner to get a closer look at the new arrival. Black, sleek hair, accompanied by a pack brahmin and a dog. She moved closer and stood on her tip toes for a better view to confirm herself, the Commonwealth is a small place when you try to stick to places with decent people. It was Vic. The Vic she met a couple of times at Bunker Hill."Vic? Is that you?" She asked as she had moved closer to the talking people. Their eyes met and she felt how hew cheeks got hot again. Why the heck was she this nervous?  


'You know this one, Finch?' At her tiny nod, Skyler reached for the bolts on the gate. Alright, come on in but you try anything and you'll find that you've got the Minutemen to deal with. Understood?'  


Vic nodded agreement and dropped the spent cigarette, grinding it into the dirt under a worn-down heel."Got a hitching post in there or should I leave him out here?"  


'Will a tree do, Trader Vic?'  


"Depends how sturdy it is. Minos likes to scratch himself against the bark." Always better to be inside the walls than out. Vic led the brahmin in through the gate, gaze briefly lingering on one of the three inside who seemed to have recognition in her eyes. Cerberus, meanwhile, was bouncing around practically vibrating with excitement and indecision as to who she should approach first  


Finch kept hugging the tatoes and the corn while the group walked in. 'Ask how they were doing.' she scolded herself. Instead all that came out of her mouth was a shy 'Hi' which the trader possibly didn't hear anyway. Finch turned on her heel and went back into the greenhouse.  


Was that a voice? Vic looked over but only caught a brief glimpse of wide brown eyes before she turned her back and walked away. While Vic was reluctant to press the issue, Cerberus had no such self-control and bounded over to Finch, tail wagging, bumping into her leg and grinning widely and doggily up at her. Before Finch knew what happened to her she was down in the dirt, tatoes partially smashed under and a very big, happy dog on top of her."Ugh, now a lick on my hand would have been enough big girl," the woman panted and tried to move under the dogs weight.  


"Cerb. Cerberus! Get back here!" Vic dropped Minos' rope and darted over, pushing the dog away and holding out a hand."Here. Let me help."  


Adoni, who had been silently watching from her position leaning against the gate wall now quickly ran over to Finch and Vic in case she could be if assistance "Oh... Gosh..."  


Cerberus barked excitedly and ran around in circles. What a fun game!  


Finch felt the heat creeping back to her cheeks as she grabbed Vic's hand to get up. When she saw the tato mess on her shirt she tried to get it off, but failed miserably. "Sorry, I... I'm okay." she stuttered, but she smiled and her brown eyes were sparkling. "And hi, again.."  


'Well, the place sure has livened up,' Skyler said to no-one in particular. She turned to Vic. 'When you've got your animals under control, the house at the back there is empty and there's a stack of wood, pallets and shit, a toolbox too. I was thinking we could use a couple of trade stands. Make your dog a kennel, too, if you like. You can sleep wherever.'  


She moseyed over to Finch and started picking up pulverised tatoes. 'There's a collander there, go grab it, we'll wash 'em off and make 'Babble'n'Squawk', my Mum's recipe. Adoni, can you take watch?'  


"I'm a trader. Not a carpenter. If you don't need anything, I'll just give these two some water and be on my way."  


With a click of the tongue to bring Cerberus back to heel, Vic returned to Minos, still peacefully snorting and cud-chewing where he had been left.  


"If you want to trade, you'll need a table at least."  


Vic gave her a wry smile. The Minutemen and their bureaucracy."I see. I'm used to the campfire and foldout chair style of trading. There a fee for this table? Does making it give me a discount?"  


Skyler rolled her eyes. 'Not my rules, but if you plan on making this spot a regular destination, you'd better razz my berries with your wares. Warm up a bit, Jack, there's no fee. We just need to know you'll stick around.'  


Vic finished tying off Minos' rope and headed over to shake hands."I can't promise I'll stay, but I can come back. I have contacts at Bunker Hill so I can get you what you need, or get someone else to bring it up. And it's just Vic. I guess you're in charge here?"  


Skyler breathed a little sigh of relief. 'Corporal Skyler Woods but you can call me Skyler. Adoni there technically outranks me but yeah, right now I'm in charge. Hey, I have a can of dogfood somewhere if your girl's hungry?' Vic winced and looked down at Cerberus, but the dog was staring too intently at something on the other side of the settlement to have heard the words.  


"We're good, thanks. And sorry about the tatoes. I don't have any fresh but I can probably toss something into the pot."  


Adoni looked up from her pipboy when she heard her name and smiled softly, before turning her attention to Vic. "Don't worry about the tatoes friend. Things happen." Then she turned towards Skyler. "Corporal, I can show Vic the way to the kitchen or campfire if you could point me in the right direction, and then I'll get to fixing up the turrets."  


'Pretty little miniature town doesn't have a single stove. I set a campfire just over there.' Looking over at the trader, she added, 'Yeah, most any kind of meat would do, cheers, Vic.'  


Skyler looked around. Not bad, two settlers and a trader already. As the sun went down, she wondered who would turn up tomorrow. Until then, there was fried mashed tato and lemonade.'Hey, Vic, I bet you know some good stories, eh?'  


Vic looked up from the cooler, just unbuckled from Minos's back. it had a few scraps of dried... something in it, but not enough to win any friends.  


"Got a pack full of them. Or do you mean, 'tales to tell around a campfire'?"'I mean tales. Traders usually have the best ones. Well?'  


Vic shrugged."I've seen the best and the worst of the Commonwealth. But we all have. So c'mon. Give me something to go on."  


'Alright. Weirdest pre-war find.'  


Vic pondered the question for a moment, thoughtfully."Couldn't mention it in polite company. But I guess... hm. I helped a friend clear out a hospital once. Some of that stuff... well. Looked more like torture equipment than medical. You?"  


Skyler just held back a loud guffaw. 'Let me see... oh, I found this pair of red shoes with a heel like a shock stick. Pretty but totally unuseable, unless you needed a crappy weapon. Might do both eyeballs in at once, I guess.  


Hey, Finch, can we get a tale outta you, mouse?' Finch looked up and around in the group. "I'm not sure... I just find the usual stuff. Must have scavenged after you." She laughed nervously before she continued. "But I can get some things working again... best thing I ever repaired was the typewriter. I got a really good price for it in Diamond City."Her smile was bright, even though her stories weren't very exciting.  


'Ooh, you a mechanic? I should introduce you to Sturges sometime. Guy can build or fix just about anything.'Skyler looked over toward her fellow Minuteman. 'Hey Adoni, come join us. It's too dark to see far, the turrets'll be enough warning. What's the weirdest thing you ever scavved?'  


Finch smiled some more and finally got rid of her smudged up flannel shirt. She searched her bag and found her recently traded Nuka Cola jacket. She sat down on a wooden crate and listened some more with her chin propped on her hands.  
This Finch's face really did seem familiar, and the name too. Vic waited to catch her eye and leaned in so as not to interrupt the others. "Were you based in Diamond City? I feel like we've met before, but I can't remember where."  


The woman startled a bit as she was lost in a daydream. She needed a moment to focus on Vic, who's face was closer than she expected it to be. "I... I wander from one city to the next. Uhm, Diamond City is just one stop on my round. I don't like it there so I rarely stay there for long. Goodneighbor is another stop, I sometimes stay there over night, but I'm actually 'based' in Bunker Hill... even though I never got the chance to set up my shop there... So I just scavenge and sell my stuff to other traders... I think that's were I've seen you, Bunker Hill." Finch smiled. "I remember running into your dog too." She looked at Cerberus, the dog was lying a bit away from the group but her ears kept darting from side to side.Finch was surprised that she managed not to stutter - well not too much at least.  


Vic turned to check on the dog, then caught Finch's eye again and grinned. "Running into her, huh? I guess she was just repaying the favor."  


"Yes. Most likely." she giggled. "Uhm, do you want something to drink? I've got Nuka Cherry, or vodka if you want something stronger..." Finch already searched her bag and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Nuka for herself.  


The day was getting on, so staying for a drink meant no return to Bunker Hill that night. But the company was decent, and with a little more time in the settlement Vic would be better able to work out what it needed from outside. "Go on then, hit me with the Nuka, thanks. Save the vodka for later when we find out what these two have in store for us."  


Finch grabbed a second bottle and handed it to Vic. "Here you go..." Very un-smoothly she tried to open the bottle. And failed. "Uhm, can you help me? I... can't get the cap off..."  


Vic took the bottle and flipped off the cap, catching it and handing both it and the bottle back to Finch.  


Skyler smiled lopsidedly and shook her head. Where had this mouse been hiding? 'Hey Finch, you from one of those Vaults? You just seem a bit, well, lost.'  


"N-no... I'm not a Vault dweller. I... I've got some sort of amnesia... I..." It made her really uncomfortable but people kept asking about her past. "At least that's what the doctor told me when I woke up... they found me near the CIT ruins." Finch shrugged. "I don't know what happened to me."  


Skyler chugged back her beer and shrugged. 'Hmm. Weird.'  


The second bottle opened with a loud hiss and a slight spray of cola over Vic's hand. Vic cursed, quietly."Glad to hear it. Could do without more of those guys wandering around the place in their spray-on suits. Any of you been over to Vault 81?"  


"Just once... I didn't like it. Uhm, enclosed spaces like that..." the small woman shivered. "Let's say I'm not fond of them. And being literally underground like that..."  


"Yeah. A roof has its uses but I just... like to be able to see the sky. Don't get many people writing poetry about caves, after all."  


Finch giggled again. "True. So when I look at the stars at night all I can think of are these beautiful eyes of you." She blushed instantly. "I should work on that, huh?"  


Vic's eyebrows rose in surprise at the fluidity of the words compared to her usual faltering speech.  


"All literature is a work in progress. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. Especially Hancock."  


"I... I never showed my stuff to anyone. And I rather keep it to myself..." She looked down and peeled off the lable of the Nuka bottle. "Guess this," Finch gestured up and down her figure. "this isn't stage material."  


"Have you met Hancock? Ninety pounds soaking wet and he owns any room he's in. Part of that is the chems, of course... hmm. Maybe he's not the best example." Vic thought for a moment, wanting to encourage Finch without completely horrifying her. "That reporter in Diamond City. She didn't get where she is by keeping her work to herself."  


"Well, I know who Hancock is, but I don't know him... and I know Piper too, I bring her ink whenever I find some. But... I - I'm just not Piper ...you know?"Adoni hadn't heard when Skyler had called to her as she was too focused on the last turret, using a lighter as a light source, she finished up her duties and joined the others around the campfire. They were exchanging stories and she didn't want to interrupt.  


"Piper didn't start out as Piper. Well, she did. I mean... the Piper she was developed into the Piper she is now. and that didn't happen overnight." Vic stopped and sighed. "Maybe I do need that vodka. How about you, Adoni? You a reader? A writer? What's your story?"  


Adoni looked over at Vic and Finch. With a smile she started to answer the questions. "Well, I like to read, haven't really written anything. As for my story... Well I grew up in Diamond City, my mother passed away when I was young, some illness Doc Sun couldn't figure out, but Papa was a Politician, he even ran against that McDonough guy. But Papa lost. After what happened with the Ghouls Papa and I took off and joined the Minutemen and I joined when I was 17, about 4 years ago, I think."  


"Young start. Probably a better choice than the alternatives though. You believe in them? The Minutemen, I mean."  


Skyler leaned forward, into the conversation. She'd like very much to hear what these folk thought of the Minutemen.  


Adoni's smile dropped briefly, nobody had ever asked her that... why had she joined, to follow her father? Or did she believe? Before she could figure it out, she was already answering: "I believe the Minutemen can make a difference, from what I've seen we have, at least to some people. And I believe in what Papa used to tell me, 'Helping others is important, so help as many people as you can.' Papa was a Minuteman to his core and I admired that about him. The Commonwealth is better when the Minutemen are strong. And for that it needs people who really believe in it."  


Vic pulled out a packet of cigarettes, trying not to think back to the last time the Minutemen folded. You mind if I smoke? I can go outside if you prefer."  


Adoni smiled again and shook her head "I don't mind if you smoke here, I do as well, but the others might."  


Vic pulled out a cigarette, and held up the packet. "Might stretch my legs anyway. You're welcome to join me, if you like."At that, Cerberus' ears pricked up, and she let out a low growl."Yeah okay, I know you don't like it when I smoke. I've got needs."  


Adoni chuckled a bit, but stood up and dusted off her jeans and pulled out her own pack of smokes. "Sure I'll join you, if you really don't mind."  


Vic shrugged, rising, Cerberus already on her feet and scampering toward the gate. "Wouldn't ask if I did."  


Adoni nodded and turned to follow Vic. "Alright, lead on then my friend."  


Vic led the way outside and leaned back against the wall to light up, watching Cerb bouncing around and chasing shadows, her dark coat rendering her barely visible in the gathering dusk. "So. What happened here?"  
Adoni pulled out a cigarette from her pack and lit it, before looking back up at Vic, after taking a hit off her cigarette. "Back in DC there were rumors of a group of settlers who founded this place, but had some sort of test that only let a few people in. But why we now have it, I'm not sure, I've been on a leave of absence for about a month.... I actually barely returned from the Capital Wasteland last night."  
"Huh. They never were keen on outsiders, that's true. I guess they just... decided to move out." Vic idly fidgeted with the lighter, flipping the lid on and off a few times before deciding to change the subject."The Capital, huh? What took you there? Long way to go, lot of bad shit in the way of getting there."  


Adoni took another hit then sighed quietly. "Well friend, I had to bury Papa... He was born in the Capital and he wanted to be buried with the rest of his family"  


"Sorry to hear that. It's hard to lose a parent, no matter how old you are."  


"Ain't that the truth. Though now I need to be careful, that illness that took my mother was the same that took Papa. I'm hoping there's some way to find out early on and maybe, just maybe it won't be my end"  
Without an answer to that, Vic took a deep drag of the cigarette."Damn. Heavy burden. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."  


The cherry-lipped sniper popped her head around the door, an unlit cigarette in her hand. 'Ain't a no-smoking sign up. Long as no-one lights up near the gas cannister pile, we're good. Got a light?'  


Adoni chuckled and pulled out her lighter to hand to Skyler. "That's true, but common courtesy I guess"  


'You wanna know what really happened here?' She lit up, glancing over her shoulder at Finch.  


Vic had been about to drop the cigarette half-finished and head back in, aware that Finch was in there on her own, but paused."Sure. It a long story?"  


Finch got up and followed the others outside. But she just leaned at the doorframe and listened. The woman had to stifle a yawn but she rubbed her eyes that had gotten pretty heavy. It was too early to go to bed, but she was sure she would fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.  


The Corporal made herself comfortable on the old wooden chair and it creaked in anticipation.  


'The General happened, that's what. Well, him and the Greenhat. Heh...that guy's a Minuteman whether he knows it or not. Sure isn't a merc anymore. Anyway. Preston told me they ran across it whilst doing another job. I was just over the hill, helping set up those folks at Taffington - kinda my job. Get the newbies in safely, help the General fix stuff up and then I get my orders to move on.  


So, MacCready traded a pack of smokes and a coupla whiskeys off me for caps 'n' grub. The General had retired for the night...'  


"That's a yes, then," muttered Vic, lifting the cigarette again.  


"I'd love to hear this" Adoni said putting out her cigarette and leaning on the wall for comfort.  


The next yawn Finch couldn't hold back. "OK, that's it for me. I will have to catch up another time..." she said and turned around. One look over her shoulder and a tired smile further she added: "Goodnight, it's really nice being here. I'll see you tomorrow." Finch picked one of the free beds. She always slept near the door, for quick escapes, just in case.  


...MacCready was shook up. So much so that I got him a bit drunker that he might've managed alone. Apparently, it was all a f*cking Vault-Tec the next-generation experiment. They were looking for synths and they had wiped out a caravan. The Brahmin are still rotting on the road outside Taff. '  


'Oh, um...OK Finch but you'll miss the end of the story...ah. Probably best for the little mouse anyway. So yeah, their motives were not pure. The General and MacCready had found their secret, underground base - classified. I don't rank high enough - and given them a chance to surrender but the guards were as much use as a feral doin' a radio play and the head honchos didn't back down. Word is, they'd kidnapped Old Man Stockton's daughter. Personally, I didn't know he had family. Anyway,' Skyler took a long, luxurious drag, 'General Blue is the new management around here. Just... don't go poking behind the back wall. It ain't pretty.'  


Adoni smirked at the last part, she could imagine what was back there, and with a chuckle she shook her head. "The new General really is something alright." kyler's dark eyebrows lifted as she nodded her tilted head in agreement.  


Vic ground out the remains of the cigarette."Stockton's daughter, huh? Was the old man here, or one of his... guys?"  


'No, last I saw him was a few months back. Haven't seen him on the road, either. Not sure I'd recognise his guards.'  


Vic nodded and frowned briefly out toward the lake."Good story. Think I'll turn in too. Been a long day."  


Adoni stood straight up again and looked at her companions. "Corporal, get some sleep as well, I'll keep an eye out for new comers. "Before any protest, Adoni pulled her skull bandana out of her pocket and tied it around her neck then pulled it over the lower half of her face. She then headed towards the sniper tower to stand watch. "Might as well come off leave in a big way," she whispered to herself and got into position.  


Morning arrived, cold and humid. Skyler had relieved Adoni at 4am, almost four hours ago. She popped a yellow gumdrop into her mouth and rolled it round with her tongue, savouring it as she scanned the horizon for potential friends or obvious foes.  


Finch woke up from a nightmare, one of several that night. She looked around and the other beds were empty, but she couldn't tell if anyone slept in them. 'Let's hope I didn't scream again...' she said to herself and got up. With some fresh clothes on she felt like a new person and stepped outside...  


Skyler heard movement from one of the houses and saw Finch emerge. Her stomach growled, so she decided to go down and share a bite. She didn't know why but she had a soft spot for the quiet, nervous woman.'Morning Finch. Hey, you wanna fish some radstag out of that cooler and we can whip up some breakfast. Sleep okay?'  


'Good morning Skyler, yes I slept good.' Finch replied, still a bit sleepy. 'Radstag for breakfast? Ok...' She picked up a piece of meat and handed it to Skyler with narrowed eyes. 'I think I'll have some fancy lads...'  
Adoni who had been working out down by the bridge came jogging up the road. She stopped just inside the gate and stretched.  


Skyler called over, 'Hey Adoni, want some 'stag? Finch - here ya go. Someone ate the yellow ones already but you can finish these up.'  


When Adoni heard her name she walked over to the other two and smiled "Sure, would you like me to cook something to go with the radstag?"(edited)  


'Mmm, please.' The sniper had a raging appetite this morning. Must be all the excitement. 'Hey, Finch, sooo...what do you remember? I'd like to get to know you a bit better. Um. You know, I ask all the settlers. Helps us allocate jobs better.'  


They walked over to the fire and sat down, Finch started to tell them about herself: 'Uhm, well... be-before I woke up with the doctor? I can't remember anything. The doctor said a man found me unconscious near the C.I.T. ruins.' She had to pause and take a breath, her voice was shaking a bit, and her hands were cold. Eventually she continued ’...that man brought me to Bunker Hill, he introduced me to the traders and I had a chance to work for one of them before I decided to try my luck at scavenging.’  


'No clues?' Skyler asked around a green gumdrop.'Ever try hiring that Detective out of Diamond City?'  


'No, I didn't... I just accepted it. No one was looking for me, no one ever came up to me and mentioned they knew me...’ Finch hands were shaking now and she looked down and tried to hide them under her vest. ‘like a ghost, I guess.’  


'Hey, listen. You could be someone here. Essential, even. You say you're good with fixing stuff? Want to sort out a powered water pump for us?' Skyler laid a hand on Finch's arm, feeling her trembling.  


'Yes, sure...' her brown eyes lit up as she looked back at Skyler. 'I'm glad to help... but... after breakfast.' Finch smiled softly.  


'Good to see you got your priorities straight, Mouse.' Skyler gave Finch's arm a little rub before disengaging.  


Finch looked around and found the box of snack cakes on a makeshift table. Like Skyler said, all the yellow ones were missing, but what was left over was enough for her.'I can wait for your Radstag to be done. it's nicer to eat together,' Finch said and put a pink snack cake back.  


Skyler gave a wide, genuine grin and focussed on cooking. Finch hummed and sat on her hands to warm them up while she was waiting. She looked around the settlement. "Hey, where's Vic?"  


'Vic! Wanna eat?' shouted Skyler  


Vic flicked the remains of the cigarette out into the lake. The lack of reliable information about what had happened at Covenant was one irritation. Waking to find Minos gingerly holding a hind hoof off the ground was another. Now a cry coming up from the settlement. Was that a Vic, or what? No choice but to find out. "Come on Cerb. I guess we're going back in."  


The dark-haired sniper and Adoni dished out bowls of steaming stew, thick with razorgrain. 'This'll stick to your ribs.' She drew a deep breath. 'There's a job to do today, I got radio'd orders first thing. There's a hidden bit to this place. The General already cleared it but he wants a scav detail to pick it clean. Any volunteers?'  


"Yes, I'd like to do that... If that's OK..."  


'Great, yeah. Biggest threat should be stray radroaches but we will get wet goin' in.'  


After a moment's hesitation, Vic took the proffered bowl."Where is this hidden bit?"  


'Edge of the lake, down a drain,' Skyler pointed with her spork in the general direction.  


"Sounds.... fun?" Finch remarked and her nose crinkled in disgust. "But if it's hidden it could be worth a look, people have neat stuff in hidden places."  


"Yeah. 'Fun.'" Vic sighed, pulled out a knife and poked at the stew."Well, Minos has gone lame so I'm not going anywhere for a while. I can come with or stand guard. Up to you."  


'Come with, please Vic. Would Minos let me take a look at its hoof? I used to run with a caravan myself a couple years back. Know a bit about fungal....stuff I probably shouldn't talk about over breakfast.'"It's fine. He's just trodden on something. Be fine as long as it doesn't get... never mind. Just radroaches, you say?"  


Finch munched on her Fancy Lads in silence, she was already thinking about what they would find down in that hidden place. Must be something good down there if they were hiding it.  


Skyler had already turned her back, distracted by something else. Vic looked over at Finch, who was blankly and yet delicately chewing on snack cakes. "You alright? Sounded like you had a bad night."  


Quickly she swallowed her breakfast and replied: 'I... uh. Yes. I mean, no I had an okay night.' Finch looked up at Vic, did she scream? Did anyone else hear it? She just wouldn't mention it. As usual.  


Vic shrugged, skewered a piece of meat and stared at it. "Hm. Okay. Cerb was worried, is all. I think she likes you."  


"I like her too." Finch chuckled and blushed. "I... I should get my stuff together... I'll be right... back." She hopped up from her seat and rushed over to the place we she slept. Not even a minute later she was back, backpack and shoulderbag strapped around her small figure. Welding goggles and a bandana around her neck."Alright, I'm ready." Finch cheered enthusiastically.  


Adoni was eating her breakfast in silence while the others discussed what to do, she wanted to go, but she realized no one would be there to stay watch if she went. So after thinking about it she decided she'd stand guard. "I'll stay here, you guys go ahead" she said with her usual smile.  


While everyone finished their breakfast Finch went outside and took a look at the other side of the lake in front of Covenant's gates. It seemed so peaceful sometimes, but of course it was just a matter of time before someone, or something, would try to kill you. Again.The small woman looked back over her shoulder and saw how the group gathered their gear. Weapons, backpacks, some medical supplies. For the survivors in the wasteland an everyday routine, at least for the handful of people she was looking at now. With a smile she turned her view back on the lake and the three drainage pipes. The moment she heard footsteps behind her she adjusted her goggles from her neck up to her forehead. 'Ready to go.' she said to herself and checked her gear one last time.  


'Right. Everyone ready? Good.' Skyler led the group on dry land as far as possible, before jumping into the cold water by the pipe. They waded in cautiously, reaching the entrance quickly. Up the stone stairs, several partially stripped bodies lay, the ground stained iron-red around them. 'Take everything. The General wants this place clean as a picked bone.'She stripped one body and moved for the door, now held open with a tin half-filled with yellow paint. Shrugging, she hoisted that and clipped it to her pack.  


'Oh my God...' Finch let out a sigh and looked around at the bodies. 'If you're okay with it, I'd like to stick to the non human looting...' with that she walked up and found a room that looked like a cell or interview room. She found some technical parts and stored them in her backpack. While she was searching the desk in the room she said to herself:'These people weren't Raiders... I wonder what happened here.'  


Skyler entered the room and pointed to the posters on the walls. 'Vault-Tec, the evil bastards. I wouldn't be surprised they had a hand in ruining the world. You wanna hear the General fume about 'em. Second thoughts, Finch, maybe not. They were still running experiments here, Covenant was a trap. They even....shh. Did you hear that?' Skyler suddenly crouched down, weapon drawn.  


Vic looked up sharply, halfway through unbuckling a set of wrist guards that might do someone some good. Once the blood had been scrubbed off them, anyhow. "What is it?"  


They heard breathing, first, a gurgling, inhuman noise. The gravelly floor displaced some stones, dust flew into the air and a large shape distorted the air of the tunnel.  


"Shit!" Vic dropped the armor and grabbed for the rifle, quickly balancing on one knee and raising it toward the... whatever it was.  


"I thought you said this place was cleared out..." Finch whispered and pulled out her .44 pistol.  


It scrabbled forward though the murk, the shifting haze around it lifting just enough for Vic to see what it was. "Oh shit! Get to cover! It's a mirelurk, a big one!"  


Skyler grabbed the tin from her pack, popped the lid easily and threw the yellow paint into the thing's face. It screamed, clawing at his face. 'Well, least we can see the target now!' She aimed her .50 calibre and got a couple of hits in.  


Finch was hiding under the desk, her hand holding the gun so her knuckles turned white. She risked a shot but only hit the Mirelurk King's claw. The creature backed up (into the shadows).  
Finch searched her Backpack and found a grenade. "Hey, can someone throw this I don't think I'll be able to hit that thing with it..." She held the explosive in her open hand for one of the others to take.  
Skyler grabbed the grenade, armed it and aimed it at the thrashing yellow blob. 'Fire in the hole!'  


* * *  


Adoni was starting to get nervous with how long the group was taking, but she knew better than to leave her post so she pulled out her radio and tried to contact Skyler. "Corporal, everything okay? Please respond."  


Skyler's shoulder mounted radio crackled and she just managed to piece together the words as the ringing in her ears subsided. 'Just gone fishin', (blam) 'be back within the hour, Ma'am.'  


The mortally wounded Mirelurk King was now dragging itself towards Finch. She lifted up her gun and fired at the mirelurk that was coming for her. She fired her round empty, but didn't realize the creature was dead already. The clicking of her empty magazine let her stop. The small woman sank down to her knees, her whole body shaking.  


When the response came through Adoni sighed with slight relief, but was now a bit restless since they were fighting Mirelurks "Shit... where's another Minuteman so I can go help?" She whispered to herself and began tapping her rifle in worry.  


"D-did I get it?" Finch stood back up and saw Vic on the floor. "Oh my... are you ok?"  


Vic groaned, staring up at the ceiling with eyes that didn't want to focus, probably because of how much they were watering at the stench of singed mirelurk.  


Skyler blinked rock grit from her watering eyes and wiped some mirelurk skat off her vambrace. 'Looks like we're having seafood tonight, folks. Vic, help me butcher this thing and we'll head back. Finch, scurry around a bit and see if you can find any more scav. This thing hasn't been here long, there's no other signs of 'lurk so I'm sure you'll be safe. Holler if you need me, doll, 'kay?'  


Vic sat up, elbows resting on drawn-up knees, incredulous that Skyler could already be dishing out orders. "You know you're supposed to shout before you throw an explosive?"  


Skyler frowned as if her feelings had been hurt. 'I did. Righty, lets get outta here.'  


Finch nodded before she wiped something off her face. She wasn't sure what it was, and she didn't want to know anyway. With her bandana up and her goggles down she started searching the lower end of the place. A while later she came back with her bags full, Finch had to carry one bucket full of Chems, because it didn't fit in her backpack anymore. "I found some good stuff, I bet I can scrap some of the electronics to upgrade the turrets. And I've got some Chems, bet one of the traveling doctors will be interested in them..."  


The group moseyed back through the gate, packs bulging, half soaking and stinking of mirelurk. Cerberus bounded over, barking excitedly, drawn by the stench. And the return of her beloved owner, probably. Vic spotted Cerberus heading for Finch and quickly distracted her with a few clicks of the tongue.  


Skyler wriggled in her sodden garments and addressed the others. "There's clothes in the dresser, that house. Laundry basin there too. Help yourselves. Ugh. Vic, you don't happen to have a nice dress in those packs, do you? "  


Vic held up a pack covered in mirelurk... whatever. "Not this one. Maybe out back though."  


Finch wiped her face 'clean' with the inside of her shirt. She dropped her backpack and shoulderbag. "I think I have one for you Skyler, I found it recently..." The woman sniffed on her shirt and turned her head away in disgust. "I think I'll burn my clothes..."  


"Ooh, let me see. Oh, it isn't green, is it? Anything but green."  


Adoni came down from the tower to greet the others standing back a bit though because of the stench. "Well I hope this means we're having crab for dinner." She laughed at her own joke, lightly, but then smiled at them "But seriously, I'm glad your all back. If you need any medical help, I can help you."  


'All I need is a shower. Finch, sweetie, half fill those buckets there with water from the pump. I'll boil some up. Go round the back of that house and you'll find a ladder. One of us goes up with the bucket, other stands beneath in their minimals. I left a couple bars of soap round there in a crate. Best we got until Sturges comes over like he promised. Me first!' Once she emerged clean, dry and looking quite the hostess in a blue denim dress, Skyler busied herself preparing a meal whilst the others cleaned off.'You look restless, Vic. Time to hit the road again? Tell us a short tale before you head off, would you?'  


'Uhhh…?' Vic started to look rather uncomfortable, until Skyler prompted: 'Ok, what is the funniest thing Cerberus has ever done?'  


Vic laughed, and looked at the dog. "Wasn't knocking Finch right off her feet enough for you? Maybe not. Alright. Any of you ever been up close with a deathclaw?"  


"I have, not the most fun experience," Adoni said as she looked up from cleaning her rifle.  


"Exactly. Well, Cerb gets a wild streak on when there's a deathclaw around. I can't get her back, she's just in there, absolutely mad, just trying to take it down. Which we do. Obviously."  


"First few times, we just got out with our lives. Deathclaws, right? You take them out, you get the fuck away before any others pop up. It's just what you do. But one day there was one real close to... to the place I was at. It was old, and slow, and we all took it out pretty easy. And because there were a few of us, we decided to, you know. Butcher it. Make some kind of use of the damn thing."  


"So we're all clapping each other on the back, and someone's taken a few chunks of meat and taken them over to the fire. then Cerb here..." Vic gesticulated to the dog, who was probably innocently chewing on something she shouldn't have been chewing on,  


"…she leaps up, hackles raised, and runs away. Just... away. Into the night. Then just as I'm getting up to fetch her, she comes back, runs in a little circle in front of the fire, barking like an idiot, then runs away again. This goes on for a while and... I'm starting to get worried if maybe she's gotten bitten by something, if the radiation is getting to her, something like that."  


"But by the end of the night she's calmed down. So it's probably fine, right? And it is, until the next night, when someone pulls out another couple of deathclaw steaks to cook up and the whole thing starts again." Vic reached down and scruffed Cerb behind the ears.  


"And that's when I realise that Cerb is more afraid of the smell of grilled deathclaw than an actual deathclaw itself."  


Adoni started laughing at that. "Nice, I actually thought you were going a whole different way with that story." Adoni wiped her eyes as tears started forming.  


Skyler was laughing as silently as she could, trying to dab away tears without wiping off her eyeliner. 'Good story, friend. Hey, I found this little gem at the bottom of the old safe. In payment for a good tale.' Skyler handed Vic a well-thumbed, badly printed paperback. The saucy cover only mildly alluded to the very graphic content.  


"A good story's its own reward. But thanks." Vic scrutinised the cover for a moment, turning it over to read the blurb, suppressing a smile. It looked terrible, but there were at least three people in Goodneighbor would probably fight each other to get their hands on it first.  


Adoni saw the cover of the book and suppressed a chuckle before clearing her throat and speaking "Anyone else got a story?" Adoni looked around at each person, but nobody said anything so she giggled then cleared her throat once more "Alright my turn then." She thought for a bit before smiling then began her tale."Alright, so Papa and I left Diamond City when I was about 14. Papa was a politician and he ran against that current mayor and lost. Well we left with some Ghouls who managed to get out, but while we were heading towards what's now The Slog, we came across a group of Yao Guais. The Ghouls were frightened, but Papa decided to distract the bears while the others escaped, I was told to go with them, and I did, at first, but once I knew the Ghouls were safe, I back tracked and went to find Papa. He was cornered in this den like rock formation, that the bears couldn't quite get into. Now I knew I was a terrible shot with anything but a 10mm Pistol, and that doesn't do much good against Yao Guais, except to piss them off. I was scared, but I knew I had to do something, so I pulled out my pistol," Adoni who had been talking with her hands a bit then mimed taking the pistol out of her thigh holster and aiming it at the invisible bears, "and fired two bullets at the bears, they hit one of them in the  


shoulder and the thing roared and turned my way, followed by the other two bears. My father was yelling at me to run, but I couldn't move my legs... So the bears are advancing on me, but that's when I hear it... The sound of laser muskets going off." Adoni then looks further past her imagined bears like she could see the memory unfolding and smiles again "From over the rock formation I see a group of people wearing some interesting looking hats and the flashes from their rifles. They take out the three bears and rushed down the hill the rock is carved into, two of them go check on Papa while the other two come over to me, making sure I wasn't injured."  


"One of them sticks their hand out to me for a handshake, guy wasn't much older than me, probably about 3 years, and says 'Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. Are you alright Miss?' so I take his hand with a smile and say 'Adoni Rose Amara. Yes I'm alright Sir, and boy am I glad we ran into you.' " Adoni turns back to the group, her smile still on her face and her eyes slightly damp from unshed tears, she says "And that's how I meant Preston and the Minutemen."  


'Good story, Adoni, I hope you tell that one often. Like Colonel Garvey often says, 'It can only help our cause. Well, Vic, I can tell by the fidget you've got on that the road's callin' ya. Be sure to tell anyone looking for a home about this safe haven, won't you? I'm sure Adoni, Finch and I can get this place into shape. We can fit another seven or eight folk easy. Just make sure to come back soon.'  


Skyler scruffled Cerb behind the ears. 'And you girl, you look after this one, okay?'  


"Yeah, you always got a place here. Catch you around my friend." Adoni says as she focuses her attention on Vic.  


Vic nodded, and gave a half-smile. "Garvey, huh? He is one of the good ones. But yeah, I ought to be off. I'll let the folk up at Bunker Hill know that you're looking out for building supplies. And... thanks. Maybe I'll drop by, next time I'm in the area."  


Finch, who was sitting a bit away from the others and had listened to the stories quietly stood up from her spot and went over to the rest of the little group. With her hands buried in the pockets of her jeans she looked down, she was tired and she didn't like goodbyes in general.  


"Take care Vic, and say hi to Deb from me." The small woman looked up at Vic with a crooked smile and a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Make sure to come back once in a while."  


Vic was already walking out the gate, not looking back but giving a little salute, Minos lowing and Cerb dancing about their feet.  


"Hmm…'Safe Haven'…that'd work…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits:  
> Finch - Deichqueen  
> Adoni - Frenziedgem 1  
> Vic - Kicker  
> Skyler - TheArtOfBlossoming


End file.
